Ride the 95

This stupid bus was our lifeline to downtown.
I hate the 95. The bus drivers are always so rude, the people are always the weirdest you can find, and this bus, more than any other in Ottawa had people who don't understand bus etiquette.
But for $1.75 at the time, we could go to the market.

It was a long ride out, actually, about 30 minutes or so each way. There were lots of stops at other shopping centres and stuff, but there were only one or two highlights on the whole trip. The first being the Jean D'arc overpass where we could see if Adam was going to be there, or this poor kid named Chris who we called "Mom" (because he once gave us money when we went around asking kids in the hallway for "our allowance"). There would also be other treats like Dave V. who would often be going to Algonquin or the the Carleton radio station for one reason or another, and who knows whom else from school.

The second highlight would have to be the Puzzle grafiti gecko on a block by the Ottawa river outside of Lee's station. It was an orange and red gecko that covered an entire 8x8 foot block of cement. You had to get up or stretch to see it from the bus. Dave V. showed it to us first when our religion class went to see Schindler's list in a downtown theater... I think, or when we went to see Crowded House with him at the convention centre. Not sure.

The last highlight was getting out at Rideau Centre. Once a weird bus driver said "Next stop: Rideau centre rendez-vous" which was/is the cheezy slogan for the mall. We'd walk right through to Sussex and Rideau, sometimes checking out Mrs. Tiggy Winkles (the toy store) or Le Chateau.

Getting the bus during the winter was hell. Especially when wearing cute little outfits (like the crushed-velvet black wrap mini-skirt I once wore with a short black "wool" peacoat). Whenever the was a heated, enclosed bus shelter it always smelled like pee. The buses would also get so covered in snow slush that it would be hard to see outside, especially when it got dark. The ugly ham-coloured vinyl seats would be especially uncomfortable in the winter (but to be fair, they were disgustingly sweat-inducing in the summer too).

I think I have two favourite bus stories to add here:

The first was after an improv competition orientation at the National Arts Centre in, was it March? of grade 12 or OA. We were heading back home after the orientation when this crazy man with obvious developmental and mental deficiencies came up to our loud, and rather annoying group. He tried to tell us something - not sure what. But he couldn't really talk - he just did strange things like circle his index finger around his ear (like the "crazy" signal) and point at us, or breathe in Adam's ear, or kiss this girl Amy's hand. He was also starting to freak out, and I didn't know what to do. We'd see him every so often on the bus or around town after that - we called him "Crazy Improv Guy". Not a happy memory, but one that I will never forget.

The second story would have to be one summer, where I think Val, the boy and I had been out in downtown for either a movie or something else. Anyhow, we were walking to get the 95 from the business downtown edge with the market area (Elgin street and Bronson?) when someone, some guy, yelled out from inside the bus at Val saying "KAT!" to which she turned around, and they waved frantically and I think turned to tell their friend that that was Kat. We had no idea who this person was. Bizare.