I had no idea the subway was such a titillating topic for Diaryland. Let me tell you about the NYC bus system.

When I moved in the 86th and Lex. subway jurisdiction, I started to take the bus because I live 4 avenues and several blocks from the subway. On a good day, this is a 10 minute walk uphill, in heels, because I refuse to conform to the walking conditions of this city and don sneakers ala Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. I know people do it, and I even like it on some girls I see on the streets, but it's not in line with my personal style. The only time you'll find me in sneakers is when I'm working out. Period.

The bus is one of the most aggravating modes of transport in the City. It has it's pluses, for instance, where I get on I can usually get a seat but this a fleeting opportunity because the bus is the main mode of transport for the elderly, so I always give up my seat as it gets progressively crowded to a woman who looks like she voted Roosevelt into office - both terms. Often, like yesterday morning, I'll give up my seat even though the young man (white, black, yellow or brown - doesn't matter) sits comfortably in front and back of me without a care in the world other than studying materials for his fantasy football pool. Sometimes, I'll knee his side on purpose when the bus comes to a halt, pretending to lose my balance, but in reality I am using this small measure to tranfer some uncomfortability for this rude individual. When he looks up, I'll small demurely and then smile at the old woman. She knows what I'm doing and she'll nod approval to me, a small secret understanding among the club of women raised with manners who cannot believe how the male sex has declined in the last few decades. They shame me, to watch them, these men.

I also give up my seat for pregnant woman and women with small children, unlike these men who sit there oblivious and then snarl at the children when they lose their balance and lean into their Marketplace Section of the Wall Street Journal, which these men don't even bother to fold back, but hold open as if they are sitting at their dining room table in their Pied a Terre.

I try to quell my anger by reminding myself that these men will have shorter life spans than the majority of women, but it's a small comfort. When I see them ignore an 80-year-old wearing her Sunday finest, including painful heels on her bunioned and arthritic feet, the pulsing blood rushing to my head whispers the battle cry "redrum, redrum."

The other issue with the bus, is that it moves about as fast as a pedestrian. Traffic in NYC is heinous (not quite LA, but bad), and the buses stop every two blocks to let passengers off and pick up others. This is a proven fact, the NY Post sent a couple of roving reporters to test this theory last year and they documented their speeds on foot, which actually beat many bus lines.

The worst part about the bus, and I do feel badly saying this because I know it is evil, are the handicapped. I don't think we have many handicapped people in NYC because the City is so expensive and also because it's just not handicap accessible. However, those who are here, ride the bus, because they cannot access the subways, which are stairs only.

To load them on and off the bus, the driver actually has to stop the bus, take the keys out of the ignition and walk to the back of the bus. Here, he moves the people sitting in the handicapped seats, folds up the seats, and uses his key to operate the ramp at the back door. He loads the person on and then straps the wheelchair to the side of the bus with a seatbelt.

This can take anywhere from 2 to 10 minutes of just sitting. I have had to actually start humming to myself just to stop the evil thoughts of anger toward these people for slowing down the bus during morning rush hour. Evenings, it doesn't bother me, but mornings, when I am already fighting delivery truck and commuter traffic, I get bus rage.

Also of issue on the bus, are the people on cell phones who are stupid enough to do business while on the bus. I'm sitting there, focusing on reading the NY Times and the NY Post (both of which I can complete before reaching my stop), and I have to listen to some jackass giving direction on a proposal or client. What a stupid thing to do. This bus is filled with about 50 other business people who may work for your competition and inevitably this moron is airing the dirty laundry. I can't began to tell you the corporate intelligence I have gathered on the bus.

I think about sums up my feeling on NYC Public Transit and futher explains why I cannot wait to rejoin the ranks of the rest of gas-guzzling, air polluting America as a car owner.

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