Magical thinking
We are in a transitional period wherein TAARG and I are debating whether to buy a new car or to continue sinking money into the old one, which is now so unpleasant to drive that I go out of my way to ride my bike or try to shoehorn my schedule into L.A.'s afterthought of a public transportation system.I want one of those decommissioned Aeroflot hovercrafts. They're solid and no one would mess with me on the road.
The other day I needed to get from the Glendale area to Chatsworth, about 27 miles on the freeway. It was Saturday, I had a little time, and I wanted to see if I could be a non-polluting member of society (I already burn no fossil fuels in the completion of my job and only cut down trees out of spite).
So I rode my bike from Glendale to North Hollywood, then loaded my bike on an articulated bus that crossed the San Fernando Valley, and biked northwest to my destination. It took me about 2.5 hours. I reversed the process on the way home, but it was dark so I elected to add a subway and an extra bus in Hollywood. It was when I got to Hollywood that things started going south (though I myself was headed east).
The city buses have a contraption on the front to hold bicycles. When my bus came, I had trouble following the simple-looking three-part directions (meanwhile everyone else had boarded). I kept trying to pull a handle that wasn't there. Meanwhile the bus driver, separated from my by a windshield and about three feet, would beep the horn and thrust his finger downward, pointing to directions that I clearly couldn't understand. It was embarrassing. I could tell he was also commenting on it to the other passengers.
After the third time he beeped, I was more angry than frustrated. I walked around to the side of the bus where he refused to open his window to talk to me.
"Instead of beeping the horn, you could help me," I said.
"Read the directions," he said through the window.
"You'd better come out and help me," I said. "I'm not as smart as you." (I shouldn't have said that; I used to be a bus driver.)
With a great show of indignation he came outside and made as if to do everything effortlessly that I'd missed. I meet people like this all the time.
"Step 3: Lift the handle above the wheel," he recited.
It turns out there was no handle, thus negating step 3. He didn't apologize so I said something rude and demeaning, got his badge number and name, and later complained to the MTA. In retrospect, I think I should have leaned into the bus and shouted, "your driver is drunk" but it had been a long day. The next bus came and everything worked fine.
I had to go to Chatsworth again two days ago and, since it was a weekday, there were trains running. I pedaled down to the Spanish-style train station, paid $12.50 at a kiosk, and waited until my train rolled in, right on time. There were four cars and I think I was one of five people on board.
I chatted with a woman who told me that she felt blessed because the same $3 pass that lets people ride the buses and subways in Los Angeles also allows them to ride the trains from Oxnard to San Diego. I wondered aloud why I had just paid $12.50 for a ticket.
"They'll give you a refund!" she said, and told me all about how she had called the MTA and had received a refund one time. I still didn't know how the MTA could get away with charging the same population $3 or $12.50, but I was happy to hear that I could make riding the train part of a regular routine.
"It really is a blessing," the lady said.
It turns out the woman was out of her mind. One minute after we'd finished talking, the conductor came by to look at our tickets. I flashed mine and the lady flashed hers, which was the $3 pass she'd mentioned earlier. The conductor told her that was the wrong pass. She protested. The conductor patiently explained that she had never had the right pass. She said she'd been taking this train for six months. He said, "Yes, we heard about you."
He let her stay on the train. She was silent and avoided eye contact throughout the rest of the trip.
Had she not received her comeuppance, I would have purchased a $3 ticket somewhere and proceeded to be fined and arrested, as is the LAPD's custom when dealing with ticket fraud, and as is my wont.
I believe that a bus driver would not have beeped at that lady as she tried to load her bike, either.
I need to cultivate an air of incapacity and dodderitude.
I learned about the concept of Magical Thinking when I was a park ranger. A fellow federal employee, who had once been an orderly at a V.A. hospital, told me that, like Tom Petty says, people believe what they want to believe.
He said that his charges repeatedly walked off the roof of the hospital, expecting someone to catch them.
This guy was often sued for sexual harrassment though, being a federal employee, he was never removed from his job. I think the people most enamored of the idea of magical thinking are the ones who really like the idea of getting away with it.
That's why I believe I need a new car.
posted
by Marty Barrett at Monday, January 30, 2006
3 Comments:
I take the bus to work everyday and I find it fascinating. Everyday I have a story or two about people nonchalantly clipping their toe nails, people swearing and screaming at the top of their lungs, old men trying to pick up old hookers, stinky people, racists, perverts. Just take yesterday for example. An old crazy man with his zipper down walked to the back of the bust and started laughing hysterically while doing who knows what with his you know who. Fantastic!!!
Oh. It's a blast.
Can't wait for tomorrow.
I think post menopausal women are the best at getting away with the Magical Thinking. No one wants to deal with them. It really is just easier to let them get their way. They rarely are going to get violent, but they will talk your freakin' ear off, which, unfortunately, is not an arrestible offense.
Although I have fond memories of using mass transit in my daily commute from Winthrop to East Boston, I currently live in a small midwest town and work for a major oil company. Daily, I feel the need to drive what would be a twenty minute walk to work for several reasons:
a) I work for a major oil company and this can only help the yearly bonus.
b) It allows me to isolate myself from the outside world so that I can listen to NPR to learn about the outside world.(you know, for water cooler talk)
c) Mass transport here is a shared taxi cab.
d) I get to experience road rage.
and
e) The car makes me look cool!
Remember, if you buy a GM car then you are keeping one of their employees of their coprorate welfare program (aka "Jobs Bank") where when they get laid off they get to go to a office and get paid their old wage to sit around and do nothing if they choose. Nobody should get paid to do nothing with no incentive not at least eventually become a productive member of society. So I recommend everyone buy a GM car out of spite and keep these bums working.
Oh sorry about the long rant.
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