Well, it's been over a month now of traveling by bus since the voluntary surrender of my vehicle. For the most part it's been hassle free and I'm thankful for the decrease in my stress level. It's interesting to watch people on public transportation. I've learned why some people wear headphones and listen to their own music. There can be some loud, intimidating people on the buses and trains and listening to my music keeps my stress level down. I keep my MP3 player in my bag and usually take along an interesting book to read as well.
I must say the rumors I've heard about the people who travel public transportation have proved true. The first day I encountered many individuals who most likely have schizophrenia, lots of working class folk, children, and some really scary people. I was happy to see the trolley stations staffed with police officers who were really helpful with my questions. One time, two armed security officers boarded the trolley and checked everyone for having a ticket to ride or a bus pass.
For the most part it has been quite pleasant. I spend a lot of time waiting around, either for buses or trolleys. I also spend a lot of time walking from one stop to the next. For my weekly chiropractors visit, I have to take three buses one way. Then I walk about two miles to the chiropractor's office. The bus drives along Harbor Drive and I get to look out on San Diego's harbor and even get to see the Star of India on my travels to the chiropractor. Any day I can see my beloved ocean is a good day. That day instead of going straight home, which would have only been a four to five minute walk to the appropriate bus stop, I went back to the stop I got off of and took it all the way to Ocean Beach.
I walked through OB to the beach and walked along the sand. Every year they build up sand hills to block the beach from the winter ocean so, in order to really see the water you have to go over these huge sand mounds. Thankfully, that day there was a ramp made of sand and it was breeze getting over that sand hill. The huge surf we had last week was completely non-existent (wouldn't ya know) but I loved my walk along the water. There were several other people walking along and hanging out and I always wonder at the different ways we Californians dress. Some of us, like me, had on sneakers, capris and a jacket, while others were barefoot and short sleeved. Also, I noticed several homeless people with hats and gloves and heavier coats. There is a big homeless population in OB, it's practically famous for it in San Diego, and I encountered my share of those folk too.
On this particular day, it seemed that I was too late for a street fair as booths were being torn down but the streets were still cordoned off. No matter, by then I had had enough of walking, and I found a bus stop and decided to wait along with four or five young men that were hanging out by the benches. They were eating and I couldn't actually sit on the bench but I stood at one end and sat on the arm of the bench to wait for the bus. While I waited I must have heard the word "sketchy" about thirty times. Things like "it was getting kind of sketchy last night at {someone's place}." That was the first time I had heard that particular slang but I guess that ages me doesn't it?
Anyway, you can send a text message to MTS (Mass Transit System) with the stop number that is posted at each bus stop and MTS will send a text message with the next arrival times/buses for that stop. So, I did that but I wasn't getting a text message back from MTS and was getting kind of nervous around the guys hanging out, so I decided to walk up the street to the next stop. I had to walk about three or four blocks and sent another text message to MTS but just wasn't getting a call back. I finally walked to the next one and waited until the bus came rolling along about fifteen minutes later. I hopped on and it took me back the way I had been walking past the stop where the guys were but they were gone from the bus stop by that time. Then the bus went, I don't know half a mile, before the bus stopped and the driver went on break.
I had to get off the bus and ended up walking across the street to wait at the bus stop across the street. Then I realized that I had been waiting on the wrong side of the street for the bus. This is in addition to walking half a dozen blocks in the wrong direction that I needed to go. It figures. I'm really directionally challenged. Seriously. I need to wear a compass on my wrist. Actually, that wouldn't have really helped me then. I knew I was walking north but the street I was looking for was south of where I was walking. It's that kind of challenge that I almost always have problems with. If I think it is right then it's usually left. But sometimes I try to second guess myself but that never seems to work out either. I don't know...
Last week, I was coming back from somewhere and got on the wrong bus and jumped off at the first stop and walked back to the trolley station to wait on the right bus. Today was an especially adventurous day as I took the trolley downtown to visit my lawyers office. I had planned out what station I needed to get off of last night and that was Americas Plaza trolley stop. Then this morning, while looking at the map, I decided that the MTS Trip Planner had instructed me to get off at a stop that I thought was farther from my destination. What I had neglected to do was enter 402 WEST Broadway and instead entered 402 Broadway. So, I decided I would get off at the Civic Center Trolley stop instead of the Americas Plaza stop.
Then I followed the directions I had constructed as to which direction I needed to walk to get to my destination from the trolley stop. It turned out that the Civic Center stop may have been closer to 402 East Broadway but about five blocks south of where 402 West Broadway is. So, I made it to my appointment with ten minutes to spare and listened to my lawyer layout the gloomy details of my financial bankruptcy. When I left the building, I went out the opposite door than which I had entered and found myself right in front of Americas Plaza trolley stop. Sigh!
I needed to go to another courthouse to check on another piece of personal business and this is where my adventure truly began. I had to go to F street. Well, San Diego, in all their wisdom, has put a couple of condominium complexes in the middle of F street. So I couldn't just walk to F street and find the building I was looking for. No, I had to walk around the complexes and of course in my directionally-challenged mind, I ended up walking in a huge circle and down a few blocks before I found the building. Which, as it turned out was literally two blocks south of where the lawyers office was.
In my desire to appear business-like and professional, I had dressed in business casual attire which consisted of dark blue denim jeans, a grey camisole and a short black jacket with short sleeves. Because the jeans were a little long, I needed to wear somewhat of a heel so I had chosen my red pumps with a one and a half inch heel to make the outfit pop. Well, it had been some time since I had worn anything but Ugg-style boots, sneakers or sandals and on the way to the lawyer's office, my ankle kept giving out and I would stumble and jerk myself into staying vertical. On my circuitous route from the lawyers office to the other court house, one of my toes started really hurting and I finally took my shoes off to discover that I was developing a blister on one toe. So, I walked barefooted to my next destination carrying my red shoes that made the outfit pop.
So, after my errands I walked the two blocks back to Americas Plaza trolley station and boarded the train about five minutes later, after putting a band-aid on my toe. However, once the train started rolling about three stops down the track, I discovered that I had boarded the train at the point when it was going in a circle and coming to its last stop. SIGH!!!
I got off the trolley and walked several yards to the Twelfth and Imperial Trolley Station and waited another ten or fifteen minutes before the right train arrived. While waiting I was entertained by a lady singing "Jeremiah was a bull frog..." and pacing back and forth in front of me. Then she said something about thirteen and that is "code for marijuana" and "if you want some of that I've got that too, just ask". Oh boy!
I eventually made it safely home and immediately took off my red shoes, my professional business attire and changed into sweatpants. Ahhh, sweet relief!
