First off, welcome to Juliet from Juliet & Juliette to gaycincinnati.com -- really, I'm just taking the time and getting my friends to write too :-). I love my friends. Also, god, it's been a hectic two weeks nad I've been sleeping a lot... I'm sorry I've been so slow on stuff, but don't forget to check out my mom and my newest blog over at Mom&Son Writing

My car died over three months ago. Lacking any sort of financial plan, I was forced to take to the busses.

I became a Metro rider.

At the time -- to give you a clue of how much has changed in the last three months -- gas was expensive when it was over $3. Though the price was still high, it was still within the upper limits of my budget.

Thank god for the Metro.

I am one of the lucky ones in that my employer has a deal with Metro to provide free bus rides with my ID. Even without that, the monthly $55 Metro card still would have cost me a lot less than driving for a month would.

I have also become better with my time management, and have stopped taking extra trips to just to get out of the house and buy something. My grocery bill has dropped -- carrying everything is a bitch -- I've only eaten fast food three times in the last three months -- down from 5-12 times a week -- and I've lost almost 25 lbs from walking everywhere.

It has also allowed me to reconnect with my city -- finding new places, congregating in corner markets, and taking the 1 through Mt. Adams just so I can see the sun set in Eden Park every evening on my way to work.

Some days, I feel like Lisa Simpson, extolling the virtues of public transit and amazed that I can get just about anywhere with a little slip of plastic and my feet.

Most days, I curse my rotten financial sense at not being prepared for this.

Don't get me wrong, I have hugely benefitted from the experience and glad to find that, like most big cities, you can make it carless in our town, but the two hours of travel everyday is becoming annoying.

I say "two hours," but the reality is that it ranges from a paltry 20-minutes (one bus, straight shot from downtown to Clifton) to three hours and fifteen minutes (three busses from the airport to home).

Most days, it only takes 1.5 hours to really get anywhere.

A typical work week -- start time at the job: 10pm -- has me finish packing up at 8pm, right after SCRUBS. Packing and planning are essential to the process. You have to know what you need to do for the next 24 hours and carry everything with you, as there is no room for just a "quick trip home." For a while, Sunday nights required me to leave the house at 530pm to catch a 6(ish)pm bus -- the last one close to my house. I soon found an alternate route that lets me leave at 8p and walk an additional 10 blocks (uphill, the whole way).

The first thing you learn when you embark on this adventure is that the bus will rarely be on time. Again, I'm lucky because the times I ride (8p-10p and 6a-8a), traffic and travellers are low so you generally get a close approximation of the correct schedule. Attempts at riding during the day have failed and left me usually running 30min-1hour late.

So you arrive early, and hope you're there first and that the bus isn't late.

Once, my bus was five minutes late, and through missing a single transfer, my travel time ballooned by 30 minutes. Some days, I curse the elderly and disabled because they slow the whole process down, but that's just some days.

When you get on the bus or to Government Square, you are treated to the comedy and tragedy that is human behavior. Drunks are my favorite, and they seem to be able to stand up straight as the bus sways and jerks while you ride. Of course, they also tend to pass out and take a quick nap on your shoulder on the ride.

I read or write or listen to music while I ride -- or text ferociously, much to the annoyance of my friends -- trying desperately to emote a "don't bother me unless the bus is burning" vibe. It doesn't always work.

Why some sweet, 89 year old lady would suddenly turn to me, for example, and whisper, "When did so many blacks move to the city" is beyond me.

It also plays a lot into my voyeuristic and exhibitionist tendencies. I get to hear people compare their relative experiences on Jerry Springer, while I get to go into lurid details of a friend's herpes infection on the phone, turning up the volume of my voice so that other people get a good story out of it.

"This funny gay kid on the bus today..."

After I step off the bus, all of this goes away and I am thankful for the personal time it allowed me. Otherwise, I would just be sitting at home in front of the TV. At least I get some time out and I'm doing something.

If planned right -- which I usually do -- I show up to work early and get to center myself.

The sheen over the whole Metro is somewhat worn in my mind, and I don't tell as many stories about it anymore. Like my work, the eccentricity of the experience is common place, and I'm a bit jaded to the homeless people and cell phone shouting matches every day (I always wonder who she's shouting at and why).

I have a bus driver, who has more than once stopped at my stop without me pulling the bell because he knew where I was going and knew I wasn't paying attention. And there's a small cadre of third shifters on my bus on the ride home, who I know well enough to give the "hello nod" every morning to. And there is a nice old lady on the first morning bus who, when I was gone for a week, squeezed my hand and said, full of concern, "Everything all right?" Or, there's the lesbian couple who loves me and desperately wants me to date their friend; we had originally bonded over my dad's copy of COOL HAND LUKE that I had been reading.

Thus, when I get to introduce a new person (or my roommate's kids) to the Metro, and they tell everyone about their experience over and over and over, I have to smile because I do appreciate all I've been through, and seeing it through their eyes makes me remember that.

Nevertheless, I still wish I had a car. I would also like a chauffeur and a maid, but you play the hand you're dealt.

Barry blogs regularly as Queer Cincinnati at QueerCincinnati.com. Barry is also trying to enter the 21st century, so you can also get in touch with him via Twitter or via his blog email -- queercincinnati@gmail.com