Ode to the 370


Oh 370. You could be perfect. Going east, you take me to the beach. You bring me the promise of salt on my skin and ice cream in my hand. Going west, you take me to the park, to Newtown, to all the hipster places, even to Uni and beyond. You pick me up only a short walk from home and you take me back there even late at night (or whatever counts as late once you hit 30). Oh 370, I love you. In theory.
I also hate you. You’ve got so much potential and you just waste it. You’re lazy and you’re a disappointment. You let me wait. Not just 4 or 5 minutes, which could be considered acceptable in this city. No. Every so often it’s 10 minutes. Or 20. Sometimes even 30. And sometimes you don’t show up at all. Even though Google promised you would. You just disappear from the map.
I aim for two services ahead before the one I actually need, just to make sure I won’t be late. I leave the house about an hour before I want to arrive – if I cycled, it would take 15 minutes. Hell, I could even walk faster most of the times. But some days I’m lazy. Or I just had a near-death experience on the bike. Or the streets are too wet. And I return to you, wait for you and – once you actually picked me up – love how you take me to all my favourite places in this city.
Sometimes you blame the weather for your terrible timing. A little bit of rain and you just couldn’t do anything about it.
Sometimes you blame all the others. Too many cars on your route, too much people driving on Kings Street or Glebe Point Road, too many beachgoers crossing the street in front of you.
Sometimes you blame the system. It’s the authorities fault, you say. They make the timetable. They don’t allow for rain. Or cars. Or pedestrians. The route is too long, you say, too many things can go wrong along the way.
But most of your friends manage better most of the time. So I think, maybe, it’s just you.

Join this Facebook group if you look for a space to rant about the 370. And watch here a YouTube video for almost completely serious scientific proof that the bus is actually the worst in Sydney.

Pulp Editors