Comments on: Your Best Worst Commuting Stories

By: Tess

Tess — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 03:25:31 +0000

My college has a subway line that goes right under it, and I take that subway and three more, as well as a bus to get home. I had stayed late for classes one night, leaving around 7, towards the end of rush hour. This particular night saw crowds of people in the subway (it was a friday). As I entered the subway, I saw the train I had to take leaving the station. Figuring that another one would be coming shortly, I waited. And waited. And waited. After about 25 minutes of waiting, a garbled announcement said that the trains weren’t running downtown due to an accident. The announcer then said that there was an uptown train approaching. The crowd all moved to the other side, but after about 15 more minutes, the announcer said that the trains also weren’t running uptown because of a police investigation (this most likely had to do with the first announcement, but I’m not sure). Yet another announcement said that slips would be given to commuters to take the buses that ran vaguely near the subway line. We stood in line to get our slips, which took another 15 minutes due to the sheer volume of people who had been in the subway on both sides. Up the steps to the buses, which were mobbed with people from the stations that had closed uptown. More waiting. I got on one of the buses, but having little knowledge of the public bus system, I got on an express instead of the locals. I don’t know how I made this mistake but I did. We were crushed on this bus, and although the heat was on (it was the dead of winter), a window was broken and slammed open and closed several times a minute, blasting us with freezing cold air. The express bus took me about 30 blocks and 3 avenues from where I normally got on. I walked about 12 blocks to another line that connected to the one that I take. I then proceeded to get very lost, ending up at the terminus at one of the lines. Again, more time lost. By now, it was about 9:30. I figured out the connection, and decided to hop on the express. But the express was going slower than the local, due to construction work. We literally inched past the people in the trenches, stopping every five minutes due to train traffic ahead. I finally transfered to the local, which was the least harrowing train to take that day. When I got to the end of the line, I had to run down a very long set of steps to the connecting bus, which was not the bus that I normally took. The bus ride didn’t go too badly but it left me at the top of a large hill by my apartment that I had to walk down. Altogether, a commute that averages around an hour and a half took five hours and some change.

I’m very glad that I’ve only had a handful of horror stories about public transportation, to say the least.

By: Dave

Dave — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 04:19:42 +0000

Wow! Some great stories here, but they make me very thankful I live in a relatively small town, where you can get most anywhere in the city in 15 minutes, even in “traffic”. It reminds me of a story; it isn’t my story, nor is a worst commuting story, but it is funny.

A good friend of mine was living in Fargo, ND, and taking classes at UND, just up the road a piece in Grand Forks. The drive would take a little over an hour, and the road was flat and straight (no exaggeration there) so he just got in the habit of propping a book on the steering wheel and studying while he drove.

One day though, he looked up from his book and didn’t recognize where he was; turned out he’d driven about 40 miles past his exit. By the time he got there he’d missed most of his class. That was 20-some years ago, but he still catches grief for it, mostly because he thought to tell everybody about it!

By: Josiah

Josiah — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 03:20:03 +0000

On my way to Iraq (Marines) the commercial flight I was on broke down once in Maine, then again in Ireland. Flying from Kuwait to Al Asad Air Base Iraq was spent in a C-130 aircraft with about 200 other Marines, each with full gear on, a backpack, and their personal rifle with them. We were so tightly packed that it was impossible to move and the only way of relieving ourselves was by climbing a ladder and strapping yourself in standing up while the plane was in flight. Right before we took off one Marine started throwing up into a plastic bag.

Flying from Al Asad to Al Qaim Train Station was spent in a CH53 helicopter with a constant drip of oil on my head, again packed like sardines, with an open door in the back that one could easily fall out of into the open hostile desert. At least no one died on the way!

By: summerjway

summerjway — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 23:22:14 +0000

The year was either 1990 or 1991 and I was living in the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles, CA at the time. A huge rainstorm caused the Sepulveda dam and surrounding streets to flood. It was rush hour (to add to the traffic) and I was trying to drive home on Ventura Bl. through Encino. The traffic was so bad that it took my 2 hours to drive 1 block. With my car overheating, and my patience as well, I pulled over to the side of the road, got out and walked the rest of the way home (which was probably about 3 miles away). Ever since that day, when I drive past that same block, I am instantly reminded of that horrible experience.

By: Gilbert

Gilbert — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 22:40:58 +0000

Whaen I was a lad of about 17 I had just discovered that for the small sum of 35 cents the bus would take me wherever I wanted (I didn’t have license at the time.) This was glorious news, I couldn’t have been happier. Then one day,(as most onimous stories begin) I was coming home late from the mall, and our bus breaks down. this was the last bus of the day, and, driver informs me that there were no replacment busses to be sent. This meant that I had hike home for 5 miles, which usually wouldn’t bother me, except that this was during one the rare freezing cold, rainy days that pass for a winter here in San Antonio. I have never been so numb in my life. My denim jacket was soaked completly through, and I could barely walk as I approached the front door of my house. This was the worst traveling experience of my life.

By: Cassie

Cassie — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 21:48:22 +0000

This past May, my friend Scott and I went to Beijing and we decided that instead of going directly from Beijing to Shanghai, we’d stop for a few days in Hangzhou. This requires a 22 hour overnight train. So we booked tickets for the next week as soon as we arrived in Beijing, scored the last two tickets on the last available train for that week (May holiday is a bad time to travel in China, apparently). Our day to leave for Hangzhou arrived and we checked out of the hotel, took a 40 min cab to the bus station and waited in a crush of about 8000 people in 120 degree heat for 2 hours. When the train came, we managed to find our compartment and we got settled in, only to have the ticket girl look at our tickets and tell us that they were for the next day. So out of the station we went, got a cab, went back to our hotel and got a smaller room for the night at double the price we paid for it the night before. The next day, I decided that since we had nothing planned, I was going to get my tattoos that I wanted for months beforehand. We found a place and I spent the day getting two large tat’s on my back and stomach, not realising… When we went back to the station and got on the right train this time, and four hours into the ride, I realised there was no A/C (of course, stupid me for thinking there would be) and my tattoos were starting to feel nasty and second degree burn-like. I apologised to Scott and whipped off my jeans and shirt/bra, took some ibuprofen, locked the cabin door and tried my hardest not to let the sweat dripping off me get onto the tatts for the next 18 hours.

Man that was a rough day. Never again will I travel/get tattoo’d in China during either Newyears, National week or May week. Pure Chaos.

By: Rose

Rose — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 21:26:08 +0000

Once upon a time I was a teenager without a car in a high school 45 minutes away from my house. Apparently anyone south of the mason-dixon line has absolutely no concept of what to do when it snows so, as the first gentle flakes began to fall in my bustling southern city, the county decided to send us all home early.

Thus began the nightmare 14 and a half hour commute from hell.

At first everything seemed to be fine. It was noon and traffic on the beltline was a little congested (it took us twice as long as it should have), but nothing to write home about. We got off on the exit towards North Raleigh and reality faced us square in the eye. The entire city of Raleigh had been turned into a traffic cataclysm. Nothing moved, traffic lights were meaningless, and our tiny teenage souls were shattered upon the realization that this was no longer a snow day, this was our new definition of hell.

Its important to keep in mind that this “snow” only amounted to less than a quarter-inch. We inched along the major byways and nervously whittled away the time. Closer, ever closer to the first stop our spirits brightened, three hours after we had left the school we were ALMOST there.

No, no… that would be too easy wouldn’t it?

A voice came over the buses radio
“We’re going to need you to take route to Ligon, you’re the closest bus currently and everyone else is jammed.”

Everyone fell silent. We were literally less than half a mile away from the first stop and we had to turn around. Delores (our driver) started to cry. Literally break down and sob. We knew what this meant; we had to go through downtown.

I’ll skip the finer details of the FIVE HOURS it took us to get to Ligon (a middle school). What I will tell you though is that when we finally got there (at around 8 at night) all of the students had already been told that they were staying the night, no questions asked. Point being, there was absolutely no reason for us to be there.

We set off, downtrodden and praying for some freak accident that would require that we be lifted by helicopter to safety. Three hours later, we were back where we started before the Ligon call. Inching and inching, we made it to the first stop… over half the kids got off the bus nevermind the fact that usually only three or four did. They had the right idea, it’ll be quicker to walk home at this point.

I was stubborn. I had faith that it would be wiser for me to stay. A sort of camaraderie grew between me and my fellow prisoners. We were being brave (that and I didn’t want to have to walk five miles in the snow with an ankle brace).

No, traffic only got worse. We weren’t moving at all. There was no hope. There was no bright light in the future. Delores could do nothing, we couldn’t get off the bus because she would be held responsible for whatever happened. Home, at five miles, was further away than ever.

People abandoned their cars on the side of the road everywhere. They knew that otherwise they weren’t going to get anywhere. For God’s sake there was less than 1/2 an inch (at the most) of snow on the ground and it wasn’t even snowing anymore. Why were we all stuck here?

We hit the second stop. Delores told everyone to just get off, she was going to pull the bus over and personally walk everyone to their houses (if need be). Thankfully it didn’t come to that. Most of the neighborhood side streets were clear of traffic and various friends and boyfriends and family came to get us. By the time I had gotten to my destination (which wasn’t even home at that point, I ended up getting my boyfriend’s sister to get me). It was 2:30 in the morning.

14.5 hours. In that amount of time I could have driven to Portland, Maine. No, instead I was stuck on a bus with the unabridged version of Les Miserables (which I am proud to say I read in its entirety).

The website included is a link to site with some videos of the hell that happened that day.

Apparently even though everyone from the Triangle area is (usually) a Yankee transplant, they all simultaneously forgot how to drive in the snow.

By: Rachel

Rachel — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 21:07:04 +0000

The worst commute EVER was right after my grandmothers funeral in the 7th grade. It was the day before the make-up date for the Gateway test, which I had to miss. The plan was, me and my dad would leave RIGHT after the graveside service and rush home, hopefully getting there around midnight allowing me just enough sleep to pass the test and avoid summer school. Needless to say, we ran into not one, not two, but THREE major accidents, and I didn’t get home until 4 in the morning.

it was awful!

By: stephW

stephW — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 20:34:18 +0000

My worst commute ever was the single largest cause of Gov. Hodges of SC to fail in being re-elected. Doing his duty he ordered the coast to be evacuated bc Hurricane Floyd was charging at the Carolina Coast. I live is Charleston, SC and the only way to get away from the coast is I-26. Every other highway goes up the coast. With so many ppl leaving at the same time it took people 10 hrs to get to Columbia (a 2 hr drive tops) and it took other 24 hrs to get to ATL and Charlotte (6-4 hrs respectively). It was a parking lot. It was hell. My friend is a nurse and she was in a bus full of mentally ill people with no meds, they had only brough along enough for a 5 hr ride. And the Hurricane did not come. Everybody remembered their experience two years later when they voted for the next Gov.

By: Travelwoes

Travelwoes — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 20:33:54 +0000

I worked in India for several years. Sometimes the travel would mean travelling like the link attached to my nick.

Enough said.