The M3 Bus Ride from Hell

I enjoyed a delightful summer in New York City. I take the M3 bus to work and my 40-minute commute was cut because we didn't have to deal with the insanity of kids riding the bus to school. Little did I know that schools on 5th Avenue would be starting soon. I haven't been working in New York lately, so I hadn't been subjected to the delight of taking the bus with 500 screaming students. On Monday, I got on the bus at 119th Street and Manhattan Avenue.

Typically the M3 comes every 10 minutes or so; this time I waited 25 minutes. When the bus arrived, my usual seat by the window had been usurped by three boys with backpacks who insisted on making the bus their own personal Ultimate Fighting octagon.

The bus slowly made it to 110th Street and across the top of Central Park. I thought we would get a slight reprieve from being packed into the bus like sardines as we dropped off students at Adam Clayton Boulevard and Lenox Avenue. But it was only a moment of solace as we hit 5th Avenue and crept past the schools.

We got to 81st Street and the Met, and it was like a bomb of students exploded within the bus. I saw enough Hannah Montana backpacks to give me an aneurysm, and binders, books and pencils were flying around like shrapnel.

After we finally made it past the schools, I was hoping that I could watch the high-end stores fly by as I was already going to be an hour late for work. We passed the Louis Vuitton store. And then we stopped. And waited. No Cartier store coming into view. No Rockefeller Center. We were being held up as "White Collar" was being shot. "White Collar" strikes again! Was Willie Garson annoyed that his chai latte didn't have enough foam? (That show continues to be my arch nemesis.)

The bus rolled along at a slug's pace until my stop finally came into view. I scrambled out and nearly got hit by a car crossing Broadway. I would have gladly taken that way out after that bus ride, one hour and 30 minutes later. Monday I will be taking the train.