There is a part in the recording of the Beatles' "Helter Skelter" when someone shouts in the background, "I've got blisters on my fingers!" It sounds like John; did he play guitar? Anyway, if my feet could shout, they would announce their collection of various raw spots, after my spending three days making bad transfer decisions and having to walk eight to 16 blocks to make up for my inability to communicate with the Metro.
It's getting better, though.
Today, on the official "go on, take transit, gas is expensive" rally day, I only had to walk three blocks to get to my actual appropriate get-to-downtown stop.
I'm finding that the bus drivers, even the one who passed me up back in May, are friendly enough and answer questions. I can't make much sense out of route maps or what direction to face downtown with everything all blocked up, so the only recourse is talking.
I did not notice anyone riding the bus today who would not otherwise, though.
The 18-year-old mid-level security officer at Worlds of Fun taking the Troost line with me last night was only doing so because someone crashed into his car.
The 40-something Kansas City Museum staff person taking the 30 to Northeast this morning was only doing so because he currently has no car.
And I, the 30-something you-know-what who has experimented with a number of lines and a number of pedestrian "connections" (various shoes, as one must rotate blister-points and no shoes are really freaking made for walking except athletic ones, which I might be saving for pretend-its-casual-Friday), am only doing so because my car's starter is fried out.
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