Metro Journel: July 14 Happy Freakin' Hot Bastille Day

It was hot today. Like around 100F. Yes, I realize we have had a very springlike summer so far, and that the east coast has been baking under a record heat wave, but... waaah.

Anyway, I took the "it is too freakin' hot to walk ½ mile even though I could use the exercise" bus to the 180/780 stop. There was a temporary stop change sign taped to the bus sign post. Our stop had been moved to Verdugo/Broadway. Except that's where we already were. It didn't bother telling us which corner of Verdugo/Broadway. The only thing I can surmise from the sign is that they probably mean some other corner, but that still leaves three. Then a man walked by and said the bus stop is on an opposite corner, pointing it out. The other people at the stop and I oozed across the street and tried to find as much shade as possible. Fortunately, we only had to wait a couple minutes for the next bus.

I'm too tired to type in the story of the annoying person on the crowded 94 who got on in front of me with her friend, and then just stopped dead smack dab in the middle of the aisle when her friend sat down and there was no seat nearby. And the woman was not a narrow woman, and it was rather difficult to maneuver around her to get to the several seats clearly still vacant near the back.


I needed some knitting needles, so I took the 222 down Hollywood Way to Unwind after work. Afterward I got on the 183. Two painfully hip young people with acoustic guitars (sans cases or even gig bags, hello, on the bus?) were sitting in the very front, behind the driver. And were loud. You know, because they had to make sure everyone could hear their being painfully hip. No, that's all right, you don't need to sing for us. We wouldn't want you to lose your voice before you get where you're going.

(Yeah, heat makes me really cranky. But people are the hammer to that molten nail.)

They got off in downtown Burbank. Yay! A few blocks later, the bus driver stopped the bus, opened the door, and started carrying on a loud conversation with the white van next to us. From what I gather, they wanted to know how to get to the Glendale train station. The 183's head sign read "Glendale Station" so they'd been following him through Burbank. He told them how to get there, because the 183 takes a very circuitous route through lots of residential neighborhoods. Still, an interesting alternative to asking for directions. Not necessarily a very bright one, though.