Applications for Interactive technologies
My M5 bus trip
I receive this project and I think to myself, “Who wants to ride the bus for an hour, I have so many other things going on in my busy life. Aside from keeping up with my classes at ITP, and my already long commute into the city from my home in Brooklyn, I tell myself that I’m just going to either skip the trip or stay on the bus for a half hour at most. It is the weekend and the last thing I want to do is leave my home to go on some “silly” (as I described it) trip around this city I have seen a billion times. I remember that the trains are always a mess on the weekend. I then try to give myself an incentive for going on this bus route…shopping? Chinese food? Starbucks? I figure I might as well get it over with…I have been in the house reading and reading and reading about programming. I devise a plan to make my trip less lonesome. My textbook, snacks, Ipod and cell phone for text messaging is a must.
I’m at Houston and Laguardia, I see no bus and I start to get agitated. While standing I remember that I walked down this very street during my apartment search period a month ago (which technically is still going on). I am reminded of how frustrating and daunting the New York City apartment search has been and can be for others. After about five minutes that feel like forever, here comes the m5 and I reluctantly board the bus. As I walk to the back I find a seat right near the window and take out my pen and pad ready to take notes. About 10 minutes into the trip (and not having written anything of substance) I start to feel like this bus ride is exactly what I needed in my day. I look out at all the other people walking briskly and I imagine that each one of those people have something important to do. Whether it is the mother going to pick up her child from school or everyone trying to beat the daily rush home; everyone is in a rush to go somewhere, while I’m sitting on this bus taking a breather and watching things pass by (literally). My mind starts to drift and I start thinking about all of the work that I have to do when this bus route is over. I think that I should take out my camera and start taking pictures every 5 minutes like I had planned with the intentions of making a stop motion video or something of that nature ( I had not decided yet. However, I am enjoying my time on this bus. This neighborhood is rather unfamiliar to me and I have lost track of the exact street that I am on. Besides the fact that we already live in a city congested with all types of pollution, I see a group of people smoking talking to each other. I wonder if they ever think about quitting or if they have children they smoke around. We all complain about the city being so polluted yet many of us forget that pollution starts with an individual. The bus stops and more passengers board the bus. From where I am sitting my view of the front door is constricted and I hope that not many more people board the bus. I think back to all of my long commutes during rush hour on the trains home to or from Brooklyn…the nose to nose commutes with other strangers, the delays and the need to get off the train as soon as possible. Luckily for me, it is the weekend so the bus doesn’t become too congested. However, I can’t help but notice the race that I always see on a daily basis. We are at a light and the traffic at the intersection just starts to move. I think of a race right after the gun goes off and think of all the people in their vehicles that have somewhere to go or a deadline to meet perhaps. The catering vehicle might have a delivery to make by 4pm for a socialite gathering. I continue to think about my own deadlines for schoolwork, a sense of panic hits me.
I realize that I do not have my Ipod playing. I guess this is a first for me. At this time I am usually heavily into my tunes, and thinking of which song I’m in the mood to hear next. When I am on the train I use this device as a way to block out all of the distractions and nonsense around me. The loud straphangers, beggars and crying children are drowned out when Alicia Keys starts to sing. Somehow my ride sometimes becomes a little quicker, a little less hectic. Although I miss my music, (and the fact that I have found a place to sit) I am enjoying this ride but wonder will it end soon. In a recent physical computing observation assignment, we documented the frequency of people using technology. My Ipod usage reminds me of how dependent I am on my little gadgets. I start to count the people that I pass using any type of device. After about 22, I stop counting. I notice a lot of cell phones (not surprising), some music listening devices and one person actually walking with their open laptop from one building to the next. I think of him as a busy person that works in an office, maybe a big firm. I’m only about a half hour into my ride. I think back to our assignment paper and remember reading “1 1/2 hours” as the duration for this ride. I am thinking of all these things I have to for my classes and then I notice that I am in a neighborhood where the social class seems to be a little higher than my drab, vandalized Brownsville area of Brooklyn. Cozy restaurants, stores, and some banks are in their daily bustle as I pass by. I think of how many banks have popped up within close vicinities of each other within the last couple of years. I then think back to Brooklyn and how far apart banks are from each other. I drift and start to think about a time when I needed money to attend one of my weekend parties and how hard it was to find my particular branch or ATM. Like most New Yorkers, I am skeptical about using random ATMS. I look for my phone to call my mother to tell her I am passing by her workplace on the bus, as I pick up the phone and continue to look out the window, a truck has stopped right next to my window and I am somewhat face to face with a truck driver. This makes me laugh as we keep eye contact for a few seconds before I look away. This makes me think of how the buildings in the city are structured, and how our sense of space is sometimes limited or not even there. Though many inches from me, him being on the same eye level with me kind of made me slightly uncomfortable. I think of how often this happens on the train when I am involuntarily standing very close to someone (nose to nose). Also, instead of being able to look outside of a window and see nature in all its glory, I see another man-made city distraction (the truck). Just as I look outside the window at ITP and see another building (how surprising is that). As I stretch my neck to look up, I remember how beautiful I thought skyscrapers were when I first came to the United States, how amazing and unique each of them were for having a designated location in the city hovering over everything while the rest of us run around trying to keep up with the daily demands of life. While I still admire them, my admiration is more architectural. I have used the word “distracting” several times, as anything that draws our attention or focus away from nature can be deemed a distraction.
In my quest to establish myself as a career woman, I notice some very attractive cars. I imagine that I am a senior flash developer at a huge company with my own personal parking space for my very classy, expensive and upscale car that has a child safety seat in the back. I’m 24 years old and have a long way to go but also know that I have come a very long way. I remember the Fiorello’s restaurant I passed and wonder if those people are making memories with their friends or how far they have come.
Alright time to concentrate on this bus route. My mind tends to drift sometimes. Change of scenery comes and goes, but nothing that really stands out or pops out at me, just comparisons made, memories brought back and goals re-established in my head. Oh and also that yellow cabs are everywhere. Finally, I think we are approaching the George Washington Bridge. I am a little relieved that more than half of my trip is over. I get off the bus and look around. The surrounding stores remind me of a particular block not too far away from my home in Brooklyn. This route was a little significant of the changing environments in my own life. My daily travel to ITP causes the people around me to vary at different times of the day. When at ITP I am surrounded by different nations, different languages and mannerisms, while being surrounded by some of the “distractions” of our everyday life.
