It
might surprise some people to read this, but public transportation is nearly
nonexistent where I grew up in New York. I say “nearly” because a few larger
towns in the North Country have busses and taxies, but not where I lived. The
closest I’d ever come to using public transportation is the school bus. If you
needed to go somewhere, you had to have a car. If you didn’t have a car or
someone with a car to drive you, then you didn’t really need to go someplace
all that badly.
As I
said in my first blog post, the first time I ever got an airplane was the first
time I visited California in 2013. I’ve been on a few planes over the last three
years during my other two trips to California, and I realize now that I’ve
actually never been on a plane with someone else. That seems completely
opposite to what most people experience, where they travel with family or
friends and eventually, someday brave an airplane ride by themselves. Perhaps
someday I will fly with a companion, but at least I know I can conquer the
airport by myself.
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| Taken somewhere close to California. June 2014. |
The
first time I rode a public bus in California felt similar to the school bus (aside
from all the adults on board and having to pay $1.75 to ride). It was cool to
say I’d successfully taken the bus by myself, but to be honest, I really don’t
like taking the bus. The main reason for that is they don’t stop at every bus
stop, they only stop if someone is there to pick up. So, if you aren’t familiar
with the route, you might not know when to pull the string above you to signal
to the driver that you need to get off. This happened to me when I took the bus
to a bicycle store. I had a vague idea of when I needed to get off the bus, but
I had no idea which stop I needed to get off at. So, I followed our route on
the map in my iPod Touch (no, I don’t have a smartphone), and I got off when I
thought we were getting fairly close to my destination. I ended up walking for
a mile or two to reach the store. After that, I decided just to ride my newly
purchased bike home.
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| My handy-dandy Rider's Guide to public transportation. |
My
first ride on a train was a little more exciting, merely for the fact that I’d
never been on a train before. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the
trains in North County of southern California, there is a smaller train called
the Sprinter, which travels from Oceanside in the western part of the county,
to Escondido in the eastern part of the county. The entire route is 22-miles
long, with 15 stations, and costs $2.00 for a one-way ticket, or $5.00 for a
day pass if you intend to make a lot of stops. There is also a larger train
called the Coaster, which travels north and south along the coast, from
Oceanside to downtown San Diego, with 8 stations along the 41-mile track. A
one-way ticket costs $4.00-$5.50, depending on which “zone” you’re traveling
from.
I’ve been on the Sprinter several
times, usually from my house to downtown Oceanside. While I’ve had the problem
of not knowing which bus stop to get off at, the train stops at each station
regardless of if anyone is getting on or off. It’s a quick ride to Oceanside,
taking maybe a total of 10 or 15 minutes, and from there I generally just walk
around, though you can take bikes onboard. I used to take the train more often
before I bought my first car (and when I had more spending money to allow
myself to be tempted by window shopping).
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| Heading east to the coast on the Sprinter. |
I’ve only taken the Coaster once,
and the trip was an event that took up the entire day. The Coaster itself was
fairly easy to deal with (and the view down the coast was beautiful), but the
day I took it, the original train was cancelled due to a car accident on the
train tracks down in San Diego. We were placed on an Amtrack train, which is
supposed to go north to Los Angeles, but they made an exception for us.
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| Beautiful coastal view from the Coaster. |
On that particular day in August
2015, I was heading down to El Cajon to get a tattoo (a Northern New York
tribute sleeve, to be exact). The trip started at the Sprinter station, which I
took to Oceanside. After a lengthy delay, I took the Amtrack south and get off
at the Old Town station in San Diego. Since I didn’t have a smart phone at the
time (and still don’t as I write this), I had to walk around Old Town in search
of a particular store that Yelp told me would have free Wi-Fi so I could call
for a Lyft. The day was scorching, and as I weaved in and around historical
buildings, I finally found the bakery that was supposed to have Wi-Fi. The
woman working there informed me that they do not. Panic began to set in, and I
proceeded to ask various people in old-timey Western clothing which stores or
restaurants had free Wi-Fi.
Finally, sweating from the heat and
the panic of potentially being late to my appointment, I found a store and
begged them to give me their Wi-Fi password if I bought a much-needed smoothie.
The young woman working there looked at me with sympathy (or maybe pity, as I
was sweating bullets and clearly frustrated), and assured me that they always
gave their password to paying customers. So I sipped my
strawberry-something-or-other smoothie (which was delicious, by the way), and pulled
up the Lyft app.
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| Thank you, kind lady, for the smoothie and Wi-Fi. |
Which brings us to another
relatively new form of public transportation: Lyft and Uber. I honestly prefer
Lyft because it’s a little cheaper, but they both have the same function.
Similar to a taxi, Lyft and Uber drivers are everyday people just looking to
make some extra cash (though there are some dedicated individuals who use Lyft and
Uber as their main source of income). The app shows little cars to let you know
which drivers are nearby and waiting to pick someone up. I requested a ride,
and my request was sent out to nearby drivers. A young man accepted the
request, and I accepted him. My picture and some basic info was sent to him, as
well as my location. Lyft showed me his name and picture, and what type of car
to be looking for. After he picked me up, I gave him the address of the tattoo
shop. We got there only a few minutes late (of course I gave my tattoo artist a
heads-up). After the driver dropped me off, he was paid through my Pay Pal
account.
The return trip later that night
was a little easier. A friend of mine who lived in La Jolla picked me up and
took me to the Coaster station, which took me back to Oceanside, then I took
the Sprinter to the stop closest to my house, and finally drove my roommate’s
Ford Expedition home.
So why didn’t I just drive the
truck down to my tattoo appointment? For one thing, I’m not willing to spend
that much money on gas, and for another: I HATE FREEWAYS.
Freeways are everywhere in this
part of the state. Where I’m from we have one—Route 81— which I’ve never had a
reason to drive down by myself. Here in California, it’s difficult to avoid
them, but I’ve managed to for most of the 14 months I’ve lived here. The
freeways (and roads in general) in southern California are generally crammed
with people who act like the speed limit is a joke. That’s not to say I’ve
never speeded, but if you drive less than 65 or 70 miles per hour on the
freeway, you best get out of everyone’s way. I’m terrified of being in a car
crash, and the more people you pack into one area, the more likely a crash will
happen. Factor in the number of unskilled, drunk, aggressive, lazy, and/or
inattentive drivers there are in the world, and you have a recipe for disaster.
No, not everyone is a bad or drunk driver, but I can’t get over the amount of
stupid and dangerous driving I see every day, not to mention the serious lack of
signal light and headlight usage.
With all that said, I’ve had to
learn how to drive on freeways out of necessity. While there may be alternate
routes to my destination, often the freeway is the fastest and most direct
route. Even with David as my co-pilot, my first few drives on the freeway were
nerve-wracking. Eventually, I learned to overcome my fear and drive them by myself.
Yesterday (May 10th, 2016), I accepted a new job which will require
that I drive down two freeways to reach it. I’m not looking forward to this at
all, but I consider it experience. And isn’t the entire purpose of a cross-country
adventure to overcome your fears and gain new experiences?
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