I walked twelve miles and all I got was this map of it!

Martin Luther King Jr. Drive stretches across the midsection of Atlanta. It leaves Cobb County near Six Flags in the west and travels through Fulton County (and Atlanta) almost all the way to Moreland Avenue and Dekalb County.

Here's a description of what I gathered by walking along MLK yesterday.

• Cars make noise, something between a shushing and a wheering
• The noise cars make drowns out most other noise, like birds
• Birds chirp and tweet, primarily in thick foresty areas (foresty areas number about ten along all of MLK)
• Windows don't get fixed, especially in poor neighborhoods
• Broken windows usually have busted-up blinds behind them - I saw lots of these
• Empty houses and apartments tempt me into moving in, though I imagine some things I don't want to live with already moved in
• Airports, no matter how small or infrequently used, amaze me. My trek yesterday started at Fulton Co/Brown Airport
• Trains and train tracks, no matter how frequently or infrequently used, amaze me. I considered leaving MLK and walking along the tracks from Cobb to Dekalb
• Cemeteries can hold beauty as much as they hold sorrow 
• Westview is an especially beautiful cemetery. It has a castle in the middle and slow, green hills for what feels like miles around it. I saw a woman who appeared to be meditating in the middle of one of those hills. It was an image of sadness and peace
• Oakland Cemetery hosts lots of events, like some reenactment yesterday that involved a man who dressed up in a red and black striped body suit. The man had very dark facial hair and very gray/white head hair. He tied a bowtie on his collar. He had on boots and his boots made click-clocking noises when he ran
• MARTA operates buses
• Buses have unique problems and unique bus stops and unique bus drivers and unique bus passengers
• The Castleberry Hill neighborhood reminded me of the Bellavista neighborhood in Santiago, Chile for all the art attractions and new, colorful businesses
• Walking can be meditative

Here's an image of where I walked:

Ultimate Peace 2 - Short Trip to Acco

Didn't sleep well at the Haryakon 48 hostel in Tel Aviv last night. This was partly cause of the street noise but mainly because I wasn't tired. I had only been up about 8 hours after a fairly restful flight -- before I tried to sleep the whole night through based on local time. Didn't work.

Visited with some hostel-stayers in the pool lounge/lobby area from roughly 3am to about 6am. Laid down until 7. Had some continental breakfast and was in a taxi towards the train station by 8. I'm tempted to say that I enjoyed the morning after that, hanging around the train station...cause I got to read a good bit of my book and cause it represents some personal time that I won't have the next week or two. And those are valuable things...having some time to kill, people-watching in a new city, country, and region, not worrying about what time I need to be somewhere.

But the truth is that my disc bags were heavy - about 75 pounds between the two, plus my personal bag. With the security turnstiles (the rail network here gives a lot more attention to security than amtrak or greyhound), stairs around the train platforms, and other people demanding space, I felt like a wide-load-tourist-imposer.

Still, I got to see quite a bit of the coastal towns/territory between Tel Aviv and Acco. A large part of it is developed, either as farm or other production, or as pretty dense urban stuff, like Haifa
(which looks absolutely stunning set into a hill with lots of Bahai buildings). But there's still plenty of rolling hill and grassland, rock fields and untouched beach. Plus I sat adjacent to a woman and her newborn...bound to take anybody's breath away because of his young age and size. The mother seemed so in control, so confident in what she was doing. She traded between rocking and patting her baby to listening to an ipod, to having a phone conversation (with the softest tone) and reading scripture in hebrew. Her behavior seemed to embody the juxtapositions in Israel of religion and techology, family and country, tourism and history, security and development...its all really striking.

Now I'm in Acco. At the site of camp. I put down my bags in a hurry to get to lunch. Helped unload ice that we'll use all week. Culture and language barriers are potent. All part of the fun.

Euro 7 - Florence, England and Wrap-Up

Not doing London and the rest of England justice, but here's a little bit of story and photographic evidence of the post-Paganello time I was in Europe in April. I have to close this series out (or feel that I do) before starting on the Ultimate Peace storytelling and trip-documenting.

Left off in my last post with a hilarious "we're exhausted" picture of Becca on the train from Rimini back to Florence. When we made it to Florence, we handled some business (or tried to). All the ATMs available in central Florence were without cash so that presented some problems.

Night picture of the massive and gorgeous and somewhat dingy Duomo:

We did, however, enjoy a hilarious scene at our last Italian meal. At a small restaurant - that had a name Becca recognized from some tour guide - we hadn't even made it inside the door when we realized there was an odd altercation inside the place. Much like the Cinque Terra incident, where waiting seemed to be an appropriate response to the conflict, we stood by the door until emotions had died down and a table became available.

Once inside, we realized that two obnoxious Americans were hassling the store owner/manager about a table. The owner/manager was adamant that the men were no longer allowed in the store - and in the middle of all this conversation a glass of wine was spilled onto the nightclub-friendly shirt of one of the Americans. He grew livid, to which the owner/manager's only response was to invite them to enjoy the owner/manager's personal table and bottle of wine.

What seemed to become a peaceful outcome was broken when the Americans hardly tasted the wine and walked straight out the front door with nothing as nice as a "ciao."

Phew, sigh or relief that our fellow nationals would no longer make the scene they'd been making. And that we could more quietly enjoy the food and wine (and copious cheese) with a Virginian couple closely situated beside us.

Out of Florence and Italy the next day on a direct flight to London, Becca and I are still somewhat awestruck but more tired than if we'd done England before Paganello. Here are some photos and accompanying info:

Transitions are picture-worthy. This is getting on the plane from the Florence tarmac:

The first thing we see out of the tube on the way into London was Kate and Prince Charming face masks:

Thank you for the direction!

London's international appeal is obvious on the tour bus's running commentary about the scenery and language panel for headphone plug-in:

What to drink in the UK:

The Tower Bridge:

Missed the wedding by a couple days. But found their waving spot:

You nasty, Ness!

Euro 5 - La Spezia and Cinque Terre

To follow up on my last post, in particular the part about regretting not having ridden a scooter in three days of Rome sightseeing... here's me rocking the scooter between our hotel and the main plaza of La Spezia:

If you've been to Cinque Terre before, you know that there are three ways of getting between the five villages. Boating: expensive and not really that interesting. Walking: which was impossible other than between villages 1 and 2 because of landslides on paths to all the other villages. Train: quick and pretty inexpensive. But it can make you a slave to the train schedule, particularly when you only have one day in town.

Fortunately, all of Cinque Terre is beautiful. Becca and I started our day there scrambling to the train station to drop off our bags. This is a funny story, cause it reveals something about the Italian people.

Becca and I had read that the baggage drop place doesn't open until 8:00. Wanting to get started before would mean we would have to leave our bags elsewhere - like at one of the stations between the five villages. But we started our day at La Spezia anyway (and were going to end it); so this station's baggage drop would be perfect.

We show up at the baggage drop at 7:40 or so. The door to the room is magically open, but sort of blocked by a rolling trash can. We walk past the trash and into the room to see two employees chatting at the back of the office behind a gate. Its obvious the office is closed but the employees don't seem rude; they simply say "We open at 8:00." Becca makes a move to turn around and regroup, re-think our strategy. I stay put, like a statue. Not upset or angry, just adamant.

Probably by a stopwatch, we stood there in the entrance for about 60 seconds saying nothing. And at the end of the minute, one of the employees said "how many bags?" Or something equally as acquiescent. And we're in! Five minutes later, we are baggage-free and boarding a train to start our tour of the towns. Hooray for the Italian culture and a little stubbornness in me and Becca!

Despite the trails being closed, Becca and I enjoy some shopping, walking, eating, and wine-drinking. Here are a couple of the awesome views we captured before ending our time in Cinque Terra/La Spezia and splitting up for the beginning of the tournament weekend:

Euro 3 - Roma Day Due

Like most (of my) amateur journalism, I ran out of steam cataloging each destination and everything funny about our second and third days in Rome. But here's an attempt, greatly assisted by photos.

With 24 hours of Rome under our belt, Becca and I felt like we knew the transportation system better (which we used to finish day 1 and start day 2). Plus we felt like we had accomplished so much on day 1 that we took a more relaxed pace -- adding to the beauty and feel of the rest of our time in Rome.

Day Two starts with a metro ride northwest to the Vatican Museum and Chapel, with time at St Peter's Basilica and Square. Here are some shots from the Vatican Museum halls...

Since pictures can't be taken inside, I captured this...

Because this shot shows so well the drama of the painting [heaven above, hell below]
Intricate, elaborate, ornate, what else can be said? Oh yeah, the conveyor belt that was the walkway with thousands of tourists...

St Peter's Basilica turned out to be the artistic highlight of the trip for Becca and I, so although I've included pictures below, but they don't do it justice.

Domes everywhere, but the gold trim and amazing light made St Peters' one of a kind...

Simply awesome...

The papal quarters...

After all this awesomeness (and Becca saying she could spend another day entirely here), we tried our best to meet up with my friend Fred and his folks at the Barberini Fountain. Unfortunately I thought he met the Trevi Fountain, so we waited for a while, got annoyed by all these guys...

And then finally sat down for a delicious lunch. Delicious.

Oh and did we enjoy the afternoon/evening! We wandered across the river again (the Vatican was West of the river, the attemped lunch meetup was East) into Trastavere on the West side of town. I laughed inside - and sometimes out loud - when Becca pronounced it Travastere :) Regardless of the name, this section of the city has more of a local feeling, higher hills than the city center, and beautiful stuff. Plus its easy to get a good meal -- which we did. And a short bath in one of the public fountains...

Lastly, we got to enjoy a bit of the nightlife in Piazza Navona, with the fountains, artists, musicians, and tourists...

Euro 2 - Roma here we coma!

What I did not mention in my first Euro trip post is how much nerdy planning I did for this trip. For every day of the two week trip, I had a google doc row for destinations, details, expenses, and song of the day. And for our big site-seeing day described below, I mapped it out ahead of time and put the map link on the travel spreadsheet. I'm glad to say that, even though it would be a good keepsake (for a nerdy person like me), I passed the image and accompanying six pages of directions to Maria, a teammate at Paganello who was headed to Rome after the tournament.

Becca and I touch down in Rome, exchange some money (immediately it was apparent we were going to be confused about the conversion/card usage/withdrawal fees), and waited in line for the airport's tourist office. Having read good reviews of the Roma Pass - and knowing our three day stay would fit it perfectly - we thought why not start by getting it right off the bat. After fifteen minutes or so, we get the Roma Pass and head to the airport's train station (which I half-heartedly remembered from my trip ten years earlier, when I landed in Rome and took a train to Termini then to Livorno to meet my girlfriend at the time).

On the train into town, we

share a cabin with a family including the cutest girls. Probably ages 3 and 6, and Italian as could be, they were both fighting for their parents' attention. Becca and I land at Termini and look walk Via Marghera looking for our hostel for 20 minutes. Note the small sign saying the beehive (which is an asset for keeping the place/guest quality high but drawback for finding it for the first time) -->

We send an email to moms and pops saying we arrived safely, leave our bags in the hostel's hallway (not the bag check we expected, but I got my ipad at least stowed in the staff's closet) and take off for the sights.

By 2:00, we were happy for the following things: our Roma Pass, which allowed us to get to the front of the line, sunglasses (weather was great but the sun was beaming), a nap in the grass of the forum, good walking shoes. Although we intended to cut our afternoon short, we stumbled upon the Trevi Fountain before the Spanish Steps. Becca bought an Italia soccer sweatshirt, and we ended the day by saying hello to some obviously American obvious ultimate players. Nice folks from Cincinnati and Notre Dame university.

Here are some pictures from day 1:

Colosseum

Forum

Pantheon

Trevi Fountain

Spanish Steps

Having had no sleep on the overnight flight, then having walked about 16,000 miles around central Rome during that first day, and following that up with several large glasses of wine for dinner...

1. I walked up the stairs at the metro station near our hostel around 9pm and said "I can feel eye red." That got a lot of laughter from Becca cause she knew what I meant but it wasn't a complete phrase or thought.
2. Then, as I was getting ready for bed, with a full water bottle set in the corner of my top bunk bed (with the cap not totally screwed on), the bottle spilled over my bag and my bunkmate's t-shirt laying out presumably for the next day. I scrambled (tipsily) to grab my towel and dry some of it up. Fortunately, the guy didn't say anything the next morning and Becca and I switched rooms for night #2.

Everything

I'm feeling some pretty rough feelings right now. The great fortune of going on such a fantastic trip is now being tempered with an awful emotional and mental tumble. Quickly: I just got back from the World Ultimate Club Championships - before that I visited Berlin, plus London and Loughborough, UK.

Most Recently

I'm in Atlanta now - having survived one of the more stressful airport experiences in Prague yesterday, followed by a 10 hour flight, then some baggage delays at Hartsfield-Jackson. Had a nice dinner with the parents and reconnected with my new housemates before getting a surprisingly full night's sleep. Thanks to mom and dad for bracketing my trip with rides to/from the airport and delicious dinners - at left is a pic of dinner before I left back in June (i was also testing the camera).

Less Recently

This past weekend had its ups and downs (starting around the time Chain lost in semifinals). The ups include:

• table dancing/pants-less dancing at the tournament party
• trading national arm-bands with new friends
• gladiator-type wrestling on the WUCC tram
• absinthe bar - see video below of the shots on fire

Downs include:

• flaking out on lots of friends who went to Prague's 5-story dance club while I was throwing up by the side of the road
• sprinting through the prague airport (with only a few minutes til boarding) looking for a baggage locker for the bag i couldn't check for my return flight - and having to leave behind the bag

Another "Everything" post is coming soon. Feel free to put in requests for info/stories from the trip.

missed the freakin train. twice

I just missed the freakin train twice. This was the third of three I wanted towards JFK.

Missing the train is never fun. But missing it because you lost/forgot the farecard worth $5 makes it worse. I got within a few feet of the faregate and realized what my hand was grasping (I try to keep my wallet in my pocket) wasn't my farecard but instead a stub from a previous night's show. So not only did I miss the train but I had to drop another $7 for the rides to the airport. Sure, its not too much money.

But my two weeks worth of travel are wearin on me. And even if I weren't tired, sun-burned, and sick of being around millions of people constantly - wasted money is, just that. Add wasted time to the equation and my gears are really grinded, so to speak.

Now I'm sitting on the JFK runway (already 30 minites late) waiting to take off. Only drawbacks of the flight so far other than the delay are:
1) Knees in my back from the passenger behind me
2) Snowing dude a couple rows back
3) Loud talker on his cell phone (same guy with his knees in my back)

This post might make it seem that the trip's not gone well. Not true. But now I'm exhausted and out of patience for the little annoyances of traveling.

What Really Grinds My Gears

What really grinds my gears is narrow, poorly focused, and racist news. Recently I read a series of articles from the New York Times through their Freakonomics pages. And while Freakonomics has some interesting and fair ideas on this country's news and social sciences, they miss the mark severely in this article on increased crime and its correlation with public transit expansion.

Dubner discusses an East St Louis crime 'boom' -- along a new corridor of public transit. He uses the crime as a sign of what's possible when urban riff-raff is shuttled to nicer areas. And from interviews with store staff at a suburban mall, he gathers that crime has "gotten exceedingly worse since August 2006, when MetroLink opened a stop just 500 yards from the high-end shopping center."

Its important to hold the phone here and note the racial implications of what is being said and how. First off, public transit (urban) and high-end shopping center (suburban) speaks volumes to me, first off, of the economic and racial division being portrayed. Its a division embedded in US geography of the last 50 years - undesirables in the city and high-class shit in the suburbs. 

Secondly, at no point in the article does Dubner refer to the young people, who presumably recently arrived at the mall, as 'students' or 'citizens.' The young people are instead labeled 'them,' 'juveniles,' or 'troublemakers.' This is a common tool used to de-humanize another class or race; and it reeks of privilege/bias.

But the most important mis-framing that Dubner has done here is to isolate crime in this mall and neighborhood -- as opposed to the community/city/region as a whole. What he ignores is the crime rate and experiences of all folks (urban and suburban) over the last few decades. What I read here is that East St Louis residents have been victims and witnesses to crime for a while now... much higher than the national average... not just as a result of public transit's expansion.

And although crime (at the suburban mall included) is inexcusable; what is equally inexcusable is a display of journalism based solely on white or upper-class experiences - responding to trends felt by white communities only. By ignoring crime in all of East St Louis, historically and presently, Dubner reminds us that the suburbs are treated as sacred space... sacred to white people, like Freakonomics author Dubner.

You may be thinking: "not all journalism can tackle everything in one article; this is a trend worth looking at." And I agree that an increase in crime is worth looking at. But what isn't written/recorded, at the expense of this news piece, is the experience of the rest of St Louis. More likely, the silenced majority in inner St Louis that has experienced crime on the regular, is not written about. 

Comment please.

This post's title - the cliche phrase - comes to mind ever since I saw a Family Guy episode where Peter gets a segment on the evening news. Peter basically opines about shit that pisses him off. Here's one clip.

Bus-Wait Formula

This morning, I headed out the door late. About 20 minutes late. I normally would catch a 7:58 bus at the end of my block. But I was so late today that thought I might be able to catch the 8:18 bus. 

After getting to the stop at 8:15 and waiting for two minutes, I decided to walk the route and maybe beat the bus there. Its a mile to the station, mainly uphill. And I thought back to this NY Times article about the walk/wait dilemma.

Here are my assumptions: 

• walking straight from my place to the station takes 15 minutes, no bus involved 
• riding the bus from my stop to the station takes five minutes

Based on that: 

• I save ten minutes if I don't have to wait for the bus at all
• I save five minutes if the bus picks me up after I wait only five minutes at my stop
• I save no time if I wait ten minutes - I arrive at the same time I would have if I had walked
• I lose time by waiting more than ten minutes
  

Above is the bus line map. 

This morning, after waiting for two minutes and walking for 15 minutes, not a single bus caught up to or passed me. I can only guess how late I would have been by waiting at my stop.

I obviously don't agree with the belief that this problem is "is in essence trivial" like this wikipedia page does.  

NYC NYE

My latest trip to New York included some of the most ideal moments. 

1. Watching the Times Square ball drop (pictured above) and Central Park fireworks at midnight
2. Dancing til 5 in the morning
3. Ice skating in Central Park during a light snow fall with Liz and QP
4. Broadway show with singing, dancing and a little nudity
5. Ridin the subway
6. Alvin Ailey (yes, the ballet) with Sweet Honey in the Rock
7. the Guggenheim museum featuring Catherine Opie exhibits
8. Candle Cafe
9. and more

Stories to come.

New York Wedding Weekend Part 6

The moment we'd all been waiting for, Marathon Mike's wedding day.

Getting there: This trip was the true test of public transportation proficiency. I considered getting a rental car for the day just to avoid the six different connections and missed transactions. Itinerary looks something like:

1. walk to the bus stop (the first bus, a rapid, passed me by so I started walking the 2-ish miles instead of waiting for the bus)


2. board the bus to head towards the Long Island RailRoad


3. get off a block before the Long Island RailRoad, buy a ticket (and the ticket booth was on the track going in the opposite direction, meaning I had to walk up a few flights of stairs on the wrong side of the station, buy my ticket, and walk back)


4. Long Island RailRoad to Jamaica


5. Long Island RailRoad to Farmingdale, call hotel to ask for shuttle from station


6. take shuttle headed to hotel


7. take party bus with other wedding guests to wedding location

Everything went well until the Long Island RailRoad to Farmingdale -- I got on the wrong train even though the train I got on was on the same track as the right train would have been, just five minutes apart. Anyway, the conductors were generous and let me get back to Jamaica, way after the time my original train departed. I called the hotel to tell them to pick me up at another station I could get to sooner. I made it to the hotel before the shuttles went to the wedding location -- success.

There: Jewish weddings are awesome, especially on Long Island. Before the ceremony started I became acquainted with a very warm (Jewish?) couple who knew Mike's mom through work. They essentially took me under their wing.

For all intents and purposes, the actual wedding took only as long as the walk down the aisle. Mike stepped on the glass, they kissed, and they walked back down the aisle hand in hand, guests blowing bubbles all around them.

• pick up name tag and table assignment, sign newly-weds picture book


• enjoy cocktail hour with open bar and lots of appetizers; within the first few minutes, I had said hello and congratulations to Mike - completely exhausting the people I knew at the wedding


• walk upstairs to reception area and enjoy cheese course; I'm sitting at a table of Mike's high school friends, all of whom know each other and find me severely out of place


• clap alot as the groomsmen and brides maids walk into the room, followed by the newlyweds


• salad course and circle dancing


• pre-entree course and dancing with newlyweds in chairs


• entree and slow dancing


• dessert and booty dancing (think http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFeaqB-AAMo on Long Island)


• say goodbyes

Getting home: Good thing I had a round or two of practice riding the Subway around New York. And that the wedding started at 4 - if the wedding had started even at 6, I would have started my commute back to Brooklyn way late.

1. Shuttle to hotel, recruit driver to take me to train station


2. Tip shuttle driver once at Farmingdale station, buy new Long Island RailRoad ticket -- I left the round-trip one I bought that afternoon on the last train I was on :(


3. Wait in freezing cold on platform with graveyard shift construction workers, who complained for 15 minutes about the guys who use the coffee machine at work but don't chip in for the coffee or accoutrements


4. Train to Jamaica


5. Train to Fishburn


6. Bus to Rutland -- good thing this one guy on the bus was helpful, cause I couldn't see the street names and was nearly 100% lost in Brooklyn


7. Walk to Lelia's place, where I visited with her and Zaida before calling for a cab in the morning (4am pickup time)


8. Sleep

A Weekend-Airport Sandwich

Maybe once before had I ever been to San Francisco's Airport. Never before had I had a weekend so spontaneous:

The story starts years ago, but really just Wednesday, when I get back late from Arkansas and have some rush work to do Thursday and a training on Friday. Skip to Friday afternoon, as I'm leaving Chinatown-area and the workshop on Grant Proposal Writing. [I stayed after the class's media center visit and database orientation. I save some stuff on a jump drive and walk downtown.]

At the downtown library, I pick up some DVDs on Iraq (Lost Year in Iraq by PBS's Frontline and The Dreams of Sparrows by The Iraq Eye Group). I imagine my weekend will go pretty smoothly. A little movie watching Friday, same thing on Saturday plus College Football and maybe an hour or two of work. Beach League and hangin out on Sunday. Pretty typical.

But I get on the phone with Kate around 7 (?) and we toy with the idea of a trip up/down the state to hang out. 8 hours later, Kate's in LA and the sponteneity is already off the charts. With only a couple pancakes to show for our Saturday productivity, we set out for VegiSoul, the greatest veggie restaurant South of the Mississippi and this side of the 10. I got the taco plate and Kate got someone else's order.

In 7 hours, the two of us have traversed most of California (Kate for the second time in 24 hours) and we're planning a social night in the Mission. We start at some open air, bring-your-bike and-sit-at-picnic-tables bar with Bert and Matt S, stop by Erin H's bar for a beer (and lots of shots!), and end up playing Speedanishopoloy (think Monopoly, in Spain, on crack) until 5 am.

Two burritos later, its 5am Sunday and time for sleep. Add a little pre-Turkey Day Thanksgiving and some sitting underneath the dining room table, and that makes a weekend. But I'm in SF and have to get to LA for work Monday morning.

At 4:20am Monday morning, we're up and headed out the door. I get a few minutes of crazy driving (some ass hole cab nearly killed us on a wide-open street at 4:45) and new public transit experiences before arriving at SFO.

I'm in a rush for my 6:30 flight cause the Bart isn't so effing fast... then, SFO's little tram sucks, the one that's supposed to go quickly from Terminal to Terminal. Its slow.

Then, I get in the security line behind this family of two kids and a mom. The obligatory taking off of shoes takes the 4 year old a long ass time; and I'm running to the furthest (read: closest, but for suspense's sake, furthest imaginable) gate. I have only a minute to buy a $6 banana (and chocolate eclair and water) before hearing the final boarding call and realizing I lost my phone at security!

I dump the contents of my bag out, very neatly, of course, and find the thing in the most predictable pocket possible. I'm the last one on. (This is about how big the plane was --> )

During the flight, I read and sleep, drink a little water and then get off in LA, where Ben P picks me up and brings me to the office for an on-time arrival at the Mercado.

Airports rule and suck. I sometimes feel alive and happy at them but they're often an emotional and frantic place to be, too. Like that time I spent the night underneath my favorite orange towel on an LAX bench cause I didn't make the stand-by to Sarasota. Or the time I flew to Chicago for a day and then had a flight to Purple Valley tournament -- odd span of emotions in two days, for sure.

The end.

epilogue: I've been to five airports in the last eight days. The above became a story more about my weekend and SF than the airports, but it relates and you'll see my inspiration down below.

The idea for this entry was inspired by a post from Deb (aka Desde que tu Fuiste, aka Rambo) about airports. Instead of writing today about my duct-tape wallet, I tried to attack the airport thing. But my weekend was too exciting not to talk about, too. So there ya have it.

Roses Take Over Blogs

I'm in Portland, Oregon. [See photo with poor resolution of Mt Hood behind the Portland skyline:]


After work, I went to a wine tasting today (my first). My co-worker and I drove a 3-mile stretch of dirt road to get to the building. The view was great - over some valley where the pacific breezes come in (which we could smell) and the greenery overflowed. The winery's whole staff numbered half a dozen, much smaller than I would have thought; and a dog was one of those on the payroll, too.

We tasted six of the place's regular wines and one dessert wine. The place's rep, Cathy, sounded new on the job but was highly qualified to get people drunk and get some money out of them. Van Duzer was the name of the place. And Cathy (who talked about her caffeine high and a thousand other things) served us chocolates in addition to the wine.

After the tasting my co-worker, Nyana, convinced me that running up and down about 30 yards of steep hill would suffice as my track workout. So we ran around a grassy hill after sipping wine around sunset in rural Oregon (the vineyard is outisde Salem). Pretty dreamy for a hippy...

Rode the city trains, too. Considering the total population of Portland, I'd say a ton of people here ride the thing. And people ride bikes, too.

My Apologies to Josh Lasky

Last night, homeboy Josh stopped by my office on his way to Fiji. So, we went out for Mexican food and played an abridged game of travel scrabble before heading to the airport.

Travel to the airport really isn't that tough for someone without a car, but not having memorized when the buses run make one a little nervous when catching, or helping a friend to catch, a flight.

At 8:25, we wrap up the game and head out the door. (Scott and Scott look on as my first visitor in four weeks heads out the door without leaving a trace or bothering the public space.) We stroll to King and Broadway where we've decided to wait for the northbound 40/42/45/740/745. This way, he can get to Union Station for the FlyAway and I get to spend most of his remaining time with him plus go to New Bar Thursday with some friends.

At King and Broadway, a bus pulls up, drops two people off, and zooms past as we are walking up to its front window. There was no way the driver didn't see us. She intentionally drove away! And now my face is red cause I know Josh wasn't expecting this kind of public transit adventure on his way to the Fiji adventure.

Anyhow, we change plans and instead wait for the buses headed towards the airport, away from downtown. When a bus does arrive, its a rapid (740) and I think we're in the money cause we could get to the connecting bus (42A) by, say, 9:00.

At our new bus stop, after only one "You look like the police" from a high-schooler, and about 40 minutes of waiting, the 42A shows up and swoops Josh away. I got a call 30 minutes later as he was about to get on the plane... another successful public transit worry but flight-made.

While waiting for the bus back to my hood, I listened to a dude talk about how he was going to receive $50,000 on Tuesday. He had to be clear about which day next week is the observed holiday. Then he said I looked tall for a Mexican.

Public Transit -- Charlotte and More

Charlotte introduced herself to me yesterday. We had something in common: we had both given gifts of food that night (large portions in American society - see last November's posts about abundance) and we are both white.

Charlotte turned down my offer of a bus pass and says she'll be able to get to her van in Santa Monica just fine. But we're in downtown LA at the time so her night has only just begun. She does offer her hand in greeting; later, I return the favor by waking her up when the train approaches her stop. Doesn't sound like a very nice favor, does it?

Also on the train was a dude lugging a serious stack of books and boxes on a rolly-cart. One of his biceps (while he was holding on to the rail inside the train) would flex with every jolt of the train. That's something I had never really paid attention to on another person. And it made him appear very human to me. But one of the books in this guy's stack was titled 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre.' I felt the need to talk to him before he did something stupid, but my fear and apprehension forbade me. So he got off and went on with his evening. Will he always be human to me?

Note: Public Transit is a favorite topic of mine. Not necessarily because I love it, per se. More so because the experience can be so mundane one day and so poetic the next, miserable one day, enjoyable the next.

If you missed the bus

[UPDATE: BE SURE NOT TO MISS THE MARCH 5th POST UNDERNEATH THIS ONE!]

This is for you, my readers: (See explanation of strategic change on my blog at the end)

Riding the bus can be most fun when you and your friends miss the bus. So, I'm going to post here about how to miss the bus:

First and foremost: the original 'bus missers'

1. You inevitably miss the bus when you don't look at the schedule. For the schedule in your city, see these sites: bart LA metro DC metro marta


2. Also, you inevitably miss the bus when you're late. So, get a watch, perhaps a solar wrist watch.

3. My bus missing story: I take a few extra minutes at the Open Door Community to clean up and say my goodbyes to friends; walking out front, I see the bus fly by. I can't run and make this one; so, I think I'll wait 15-30 minutes at the most.

But, I chill in the shade of the small dogwood tree at Barnett and Ponce de Leon. For 50 minutes.

I'm sweaty and mad when I call work to say I won't show up until after lunch. Then I wait more. And its hot in Atlanta. And I'm fully clothed in the garb that my friend Eduard called the Republican party representation... pleated khakis and a long-sleeve collared shirt.

Now I live in LA, where its as hot or hotter. But I walk to work every day. So there's no driver to get mad at without ever adressing that person (cause they can only control their bus in the short term). The air conditioning nearly freezes me for the bus ride (the bus did show up, finally) and at work - showing up wet is a guarantee for sitting cold all day.

4. Have you missed the bus before? Post here your story. Or post your friends' story about busses - maybe missing the bus.

My goal over the next little while is to make this blog more user-specific as opposed to simply journaling my own life. I'll do both, hopefully, such as with this post. Let me know what you think