#IGoRTA: Gettin' Around Town the Easy Way (+ a Huge Cleveland Giveaway!)

#IGoRTA: Gettin' Around Town the Easy Way (+ a Huge Cleveland Giveaway!)

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

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Back when I lived in D.C. (man, doesn't that seem like a long time ago?), I didn't have a car. I relied solely on public transportation, taking the Metro & bus everywhere. I'm not a fan of driving, & if I'd had to so in D.C., I would've died of anxiety first.

Now that I live in Cleveland, I have a car, but I still don't love driving. Luckily, this city has a great public transportation system, & as I've gotten a feel for it, I've become much more comfortable using it to get around town. It saves me the hassle of driving & finding parking, especially in neighborhoods known for winding roads & lack of parking. Looking at you, East Side & Little Italy!

Speaking of Little Italy, I most recently took the Rapid home from the Feast of the Assumption, one of Cleveland's most delicious festivals. After shelling out for a stromboli, a cannoli, & a neon yellow rum drink, ain't nobody wanted to spend more money on a Lyft. We hopped on the Rapid for just a few bucks & headed out to Ohio City to continue the party. So easy - like my D.C. days!

The Greater Cleveland Regional Transit Authority - more commonly known as the RTA - launched an app that makes it easy to plan your route & purchase your trip on the go. You can use your phone as your farecard. It launched to great fanfare this summer, given that RTA is a transportation option for so many major summer events: Think Edgewater Live, Wade Oval Wednesdays, & Tribe games.

Right now, RTA's partners are also offering discounts when you show your pass at purchase. Here are a few of the highlights:

• $2 off admission at the Cleveland Zoo, Great Lakes Science Center, & Botanical Gardens
• 10% off at Melt Bar & Grilled
• 25% off a pastry or coffee at Blackbird Baking Company 
• 15% off at Tremont Scoops
• 10% off a purchase at the CLE Clothing Co.
• 10% off your purchase at Fear's Confections
• $1 off any hot dog at Happy Dog

You can also use the RTA site/app also plan your trip to get there. Their #IGoRTA page includes more info about discounts & trip-planning features, from bus to train to trolley.

I'm excited to partner with RTA & their many partners to offer a prize pack of Cleveland goodies to one lucky 216-loving reader. The winner will score...

• A one-month RTA pass
• A $25 gift card to Fear's Confections in Lakewood
• A $50 gift card to Melt Bar & Grilled (good at any location)

As every Northeast Ohioan knows, Melt is one of the area's most delicious chains, serving grilled cheese creations that are also massive monstrosities (in the tastiest way possible). Thankfully, they sell their sandwiches by the half, which is plenty for me. My favorite is the Korean War Pig: BBQ glazed pulled pork, seared pork belly, kimchi slaw, pear/onion/cilantro relish, & muenster cheese. YES.

They also offer some Cleveland-centric sandwiches, including the Cleveland Cheese Steak, the Parmageddon, & the Lake Erie Monster. And the fries? Get the fries. With a side of BBQ sauce. And a beer.

As for Fear's, this Lakewood-based chocolatier made the transition from a home-based business to a Lakewood storefront in 2013, specializing in caramels, toffees, truffles, & turtles. They also offer "nerd candy," including the solid chocolates Millennium Falcons you see below. When I was last there, I got one of those for Mike, obviously - & chocolate-covered papaya for me.

OK, so you wanna enter? Duh, you wanna enter. For your chance to win:

1. Follow me on Instagram at @heyescapist.
2. Comment on this Instagram pic to tell me where you take RTA, or where it'll take you next.
3. In separate comments, feel free to tag friends. Each one will count as an extra entry.

I'll select a random winner on Wednesday, August 30th, & I'll announce it by tagging them on Instagram & sending a DM. Soon, you could be eating your body weight in grilled cheese & chocolate - & taking a month's worth of free RTA rides to get to them! 

Thanks so much to RTA for sponsoring this post. I received a one-month RTA pass & gift cards to Melt & Fear's, as well as a prize pack to give away to one reader. All opinions are my own - now & always!

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Don't Be a Stranger

Don't Be a Stranger

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

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I misplaced my SmarTrip card, & by “misplaced,” I think I mean “dropped on the sidewalk.” It’s gone forever, unless I find it hidden in my desk drawers months from now (which is possible), so I had to go get a new one. Tonight I stopped by the Woodley Park Metro Station on my way home from an appointment, where it took all of three minutes to complete the entire transaction. I would've been on my merry, cold way home except that I lagged for a bit when I noticed the scene taking place around me.

A group of six middle-aged male tourists were crowded around two of the farecard vending machines, clearly lost. Their English comprehension skills ranged from moderate to nonexistent, & they were obviously struggling with the whole card-reloading process - the buttons, the instructions, the money. I thought about offering them help, but I'm always wary of insulting tourists by, you know, identifying them as tourists, so I just stood there for an extra minute, getting my getting-ready-to-go affairs in order (whatever that means) & trying to look approachable.

As I was about to put my earbuds in & roll out, one of the men approached me. "Are you American?" he asked me in heavily accented English, his expression hopeful. "Do you live here?" I told him I did & that I'd be happy to help, & then I spent the next seven or eight minutes walking them through the reloading process on all six of their cards. (We had to start & stop a few times because one of the guys was dead-set on displaying his understanding of the machines' instructions, pushing buttons at the wrong times, which put a kink in the process more than once.) I also helped them read through the Metro map & sort out their money because... foreign maps & foreign money are tough & terrifying, man.

As I started to help them, I was reminded of two trips of my own. On my first day in Israel, I tried to pay for a case of water with five agorot instead of five shekelim, which is (I think) the equivalent of trying to pay with five pennies instead of five quarters. The storekeeper laughed meanly & scoffed, "No, no," shooing me away to sort out my money troubles without any guidance or understanding.

On my summer trip to London, where I spoke the language but still faced considerable currency confusion, I dreaded paying for anything because why is their money so difficult to figure out? As I tried to figure out which coins would pay for a single miniature cupcake from the famed Hamley's Toy Shop, my anxiety must've been obvious to the girl behind the bakery counter. With no one in line behind me, she spent three minutes giving me a thorough & friendly currency tutorial that was much more helpful than anything I'd read online before my visit.

I spent only a few minutes with today's baffled tourists, but I walked away from that interaction hoping I'd been helpful & friendly enough to leave them with a positive impression of the U.S. & of those of us who live here. They were so appreciative, & for me, it was so easy. I didn't have anywhere to hurry off to, & it's not like it was difficult for me, as a native English speaker with knowledge of the city & of American money, to do what they were struggling so hard to figure out on their own. Beyond that, though, it's just so damn easy to be nice, & as much as I promise to forever cling to my penchant for snark & sass, even I can admit that it feels good to just be good.

Why am I telling you this? It's not so you can tell me what a good person I am; trust me, I'm very often not. And that's the point, actually. The point is that we so often forget how easy it is to be a decent person, so this is just a little reminder. Next time you're in a position to help somebody out, give it a try - even if you're a little busier than I was, or the request is a little more difficult than theirs was. In fact, you know what? Help somebody out even (especially!) if they don't ask for it, because asking for help is scary, but being offered help is an incredible relief.

Do something nice. Be someone nice. And pay it forward, ya filthy animals.

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After Six Years on the East Coast, Apparently Public Transportation Still Confuses Me

After Six Years on the East Coast, Apparently Public Transportation Still Confuses Me

Friday, July 26, 2013

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Despite my frequent travel & my vocal disdain for confused travelers who slow down the system, this morning I made a major Amtrak goof that reminded me that I am fallible & largely inept. In other words, today I was one of those people I hate.

Waiting at the Metropark station for my train to DC, I was pleased to find I had plenty of time to spare before my 6:25 boarding call (thanks for driving me, boyfriend). When the train pulled up, I briefly registered, mentally, that it was an Acela, one of the faster trains: "I paid for an Acela? Huh. Yeah, probably.  Stuff's cheaper when you're traveling at 6am." I took a seat in the Quiet Car, stowed my luggage, set my ticket out for the conductor, & started to settle in to watch some Catfish on my iPad & hopefully fall asleep.

And then I glanced at my ticket again. 6:37 departure? What, what? It's only 6:27! And then it hit me: Acela. I took the wrong train. I AM ON THE WRONG TRAIN.

Cue panic.

In truth, it could've been a lot worse. The train I was on was still going to the right place, but it was just going a lot faster & for a lot more money. Panicky & unable to find a conductor, I weighed the options if I stayed put: explain my situation to the conductor when s/he came around, at which point I'd either have to pay the difference, get off the train, or, in some miraculous case of conductor kindness, fly under the radar & be permitted to stay on at no extra cost (unlikely). Becoming all the more anxious at the realization that in order to figure it out, I'd have to cause speak aloud on the Quiet Car (see: people I hate), I made the executive decisive to get off at the train.

Loudly & with some inadvertent fanfare (like waking up my sleeping seatmate & knocking his tickets to he ground), I  heaved my luggage from the overhead compartment & removed myself from the Quiet Car, which was by then filled with very annoyed businesspeople, each of them adept at the art of the withering stare. As I stepped off the train at Trenton, I prayed that my train, the one I was supposed to be on, was scheduled to make a stop there.

It was - 23 minutes later, plus a 10-minute delay, because that's what it's like when you take the slow, cheap train instead of the fast, expensive one. When my carriage finally arrived, it was one of those creaky old things with brakes that squeal & doors that don't quite open all the way, nothing like the sleek, futuristic train on which I'd earlier been an accidental stowaway. I was happy to have made it to the right train, of course, but now I've seen how the other half lives while in transit - & it's much, much nicer.

For a mere half an hour, from Metropark to Trenton, I got a taste of that bougie Acela  life... & my train rides may never be the same.

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Notes on New York from a n00b

Notes on New York from a n00b

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

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My general feelings about free coffee
& good hair days, but not about 5:15am

It's 8:40am as I begin this post, & already, I've been awake for 3.5 hours. If you've ever woken up in my general vicinity (I'm also talking crashing on your couch & traveling together, pervs, not just sexytimes), you know that I am not exaaaaactly what anyone would call a "morning person." I see 8am only when I absolutely need to, & my work-from-home lifestyle means this isn't very often (but shut up about it, please).

Today, though, I had to catch a train into the city, & because I'm slightly lazy and/or cold-averse, I caught a ride with Nathan to the train station... at 6:20. I was thus on a train by 6:35 & arrived at Penn Station just before 8:00. Now, it's still shy of workin' time, & I'm sitting at my desk, avoiding work for 15 more minutes because why would I start work early?

It's been awhile since I've been to my office - three & a half months, to be precise. When I first moved to Jersey, I was doing a great job of coming into the city for a few days a month, crashing with a friend & working from an actual office building with actual coworkers who I can see in 3D instead of via GoTo Meeting (whaddup, GTM, you rock, though). But then Hurricane Sandy hit, & the train was out for more than a month, & then it was the holidays, & then I went to Israel... & now it's now. I had to come in for 48 hours for a really long meeting, so here I am.

I fancy myself pretty good at the city for a non city-dweller. I have a terrible sense of direction, but I have an iPhone & common sense, so I can usually make it work for me. This morning, though, I felt like a total new kid, messing up all the little things I usually pride myself on. I also came away with a few fresh observations, which I shall impart upon you at this time:

• This is how to not get robbed when you intend to sleep on a train:
  
  Although to be fair, I don't know that a lot of robbers are active in the wee hours of the morn. And speaking of the wee hours of the morn...

• There's a special place in hell for people who carry on loud, bellowing conversations - or conversations of any volume, frankly - on public transit prior to sunrise. Everyone around you is trying to sleep for the next 70 minutes, bro. I know you're from Jersey, but tone it down.

• Waking up on the train upon reaching your final destination (not like that) is among the most disorienting situations, much like waking up on an airplane is. WHERE AM I & WHAT TIME IS IT & DID I ACCIDENTALLY JUST GET OFF THE TRAIN AT NEWARK INSTEAD OF THE CITY? No? Oh, good. Carry on.

• Subway turnstiles & revolving doors are particularly hostile to luggage-wielding pedestrians, & of course, the city is lousy with both of them. Can't a girl get an old-fashioned hinged door up in here?

• I am incapable of assembling weather-appropriate attire in advance. To be fair, I also didn't check the forecast, but I just assumed it would be, like, four degrees out today, so I sported my thickest winter coat, the one with the faux-fur hood trim. But because I am the world's sweatiest individual & because subway cars in no way approximate outdoor temperatures & because the outdoor temperature is actually sort of balmy for January, I arrived at my office looking like I'd just run an early-morning marathon.

• But my hair stayed good! And good hair days get you things. Or they got me things today, at least, when I walked into Starbucks, all awkward & sweaty & heavy-coat-wearing, & the barista told me my hair looked "bangin'" & then rang me up for a tall coffee instead of a tall latte, which is approximately a million times cheaper. And then winked at me. 

I didn't even know my brain could formulate so many complete sentences prior to 9am. I'm so proud! And whaddaya know? It's 9am now, which means work beckons. Happy Tuesday!

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It Takes a Village (to Get Into the City)

It Takes a Village (to Get Into the City)

Friday, July 20, 2012

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I remember the first time I visited New York City. I was probably 11 years old, & I was visiting my penpal. As we walked down a busy city street with our mothers, my friend asked me, "Did you just smile at a stranger?" Her horrified expression immediately told me that I'd done something very wrong. How was a Midwestern kid to know?!

I think of that incident every time I smile at a stranger in the city - & yes, I still do it. I find that people are typically friendly to those who are friendly to them, as long as they're not in too much of a hurry. And when it comes to asking for directions, a friendly smile goes a long way.

On directions: I am a firm believer in asking for directions when necessary, & sometimes even when unnecessary, just to affirm that I'm on the right track. On Monday, when I commuted from Red Bank to NYC for the first time, I knew I'd never figure it out without a little help from my friends - in which "friends" are "total strangers," for the most part.

I'd like to thank the seven people - all strangers but one - who  made it possible for me to commute from my home to my office without having a mental breakdown or ending up under a bridge in the Bronx.

• On Sunday, I emailed a few coworkers, all of whom are longtime N.J. residents, to ask how to get from Red Bank to our office. One of them, Victor, sent detailed instructions for getting from Penn Station (where the train pulls in) to Grand Central (where I needed to be), including such typically overlooked instructions as "go down two floors [to catch the next train]." Vital details! Armed with Victor's guidance saved as a note in my iPhone, I felt slightly more confident about braving the NYC subway, especially while carrying oversized luggage. Thanks, savvy coworker!
  
  
• Upon arrival at the Red Bank Station, I 'fessed up: "This is my first time doing this," I told the woman behind the ticket counter. As there was no one in line behind me (clutch), she was more than happy to give me a rundown of how the transportation situation into the city was going to work. Thanks, friendly ticket gal!
  
  
• As I waited on the platform, a middle-aged man asked me if the arriving train was going to [Name of Town I Forget]; when I couldn't answer, a young guy standing nearby stepped in to help. I seized the opportunity to ask him how to tell which trains would & wouldn't go to NYC, & he gave me a full rundown. Thanks, knowledgeable dude waiting on a train!
  
  
• Once on the train, I got worried. How would I know when I got to Penn Station?! What if I missed my stop & rode the train forever? When the ticker-taker came around to, uh, take my ticket, I decided to ask. "It's the last stop," he assured me, "and everyone will be getting off. Can't miss it, honey." Thanks, kind NJ Transit worker! 
  
  
• Somewhere around Secaucus, a woman sat down next to me & hung her monthly transit pass from the seat. I nervously engaged her in conversation about how that works - & learned that if it costs her $200+ for an unlimited pass for Secaucus, it'd likely cost me about a million for the same from the boonies of Red Bank. Thanks, amiable commuter!
  
  
• At Penn Station, I navigated to the 3 train, which I'd been told would take me to Times Square, but standing on the platform, I began to question my directional capabilities. I honed in on a calm-looking dude sans headphones & double-checked that I was headed in the right direction; he confirmed that I was. Thanks, non-gruff New Yorker!
  
  
• And finally, one last check as I boarded the 7 to Queens: "The next stop is Grand Central, right?" I said casually to a woman leaning on the door of the train. "Yep," she responded. Interaction complete, as I stepped off the train at my penultimate destination. Success. Thanks, moderately-more-gruff-but-still-helpful New Yorker! 

My iPhone did the rest of the work for me, directing me the two blocks from Grand Central to the office. Total door-to-door travel time was two hours. Total stress level? Surprisingly nonexistent. And for me, that's basically a miracle.

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The Kid's Still Got It

The Kid's Still Got It

Monday, April 4, 2011

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Alone on the NYC subway? Sorrrrt of creepy.

Six months & a handful of days ago, I packed my bags, loaded up an abductor van U-Haul & moved out of DC, which had been my home for three excellent years. In the past six months, I:

• Moved in with my mom in Ohio
• Freelanced for a hometown news outlet
• Moved in with my boyfriend in New Hampshire,
• Got a job that entails working from my living room

All of these podunk-sounding life changes, combined with the fact that I own a cat & have begun geocaching in the woods, might lead one - one like you, let's say - to question whether I've lost my city smarts in favor of becoming a country mouse.

The answer to that question is no, I haven't, & now I've got proof.

I spent the last week in New York City, & I'm proud to announce that, as the title of this post suggests, there's no groove to get back. It was never lost, just temporarily shelved.

While in New York this time around, I did a number of things I'm proud of. I:

• Spent an evening in Harlem, which I accessed via subway & not cab - brave!
• Slept in a hostel situated on a street corner rife with verbal disagreements that included lines like, "I AIN'T GONNA GET ARRESTED FOR THIS SHIT!"
• Successfully navigated the subway from my friend's apartment on the Upper West Side to my office near Grand Central
• Took a crosstown city bus from one friend's apartment to another, luggage in tow, then transferred to a nearby subway station
• Only got stuck in the turnstiles with my luggage once, as opposed to the four times I got stuck on my last visit

BONUS: In case you're wondering how can a suburbanite like myself makes her way in the big city, I come bearing guidance!

• Don't hesitate. Look like you know what you're doing, even if you're not sure you so. If you walk a block in the wrong direction, you will live. Just turn around & fix your mistake. But if you look around nervously before you make turns, you will inevitably get flustered. And also annoy people.
  
  
• If you must hesitate, do it elsewhere. It's OK to not know what you're doing or to get turned around. As a master of getting lost, I'm constantly struggling to read Google Maps, pull up my subway app, figure out what the eff I'm doing, etc. But when I need to take a breather & reorient, I step to the side or duck into a corner, someplace where I'm not going to act as a roadblock to every busy, bustling New Yorker trying to go about his daily business. In other words, move over.
  
  
• Look kind of angry. Angry people do not bite their lower lip in confusion. Angry people do not look doe-eyed at strangers hoping they'll stop & offer up directions unprovoked. Angry people do not get distracted by architecture or the height of the Chrysler Building. Walk with purpose, & even New Yorkers will believe that you're a New Yorker. Or... at least not a proud suburbanite with a crippling fear of public transportation.
  
  
• Act kind of nice. Asking for directions is totally allowed, as long as you choose the right person to ask. Go for someone who looks A) trustworthy, B) knowledgeable, and C) not in a hurry. Nearly everyone who fits these criteria will be happy to point you in the right direction. Literally.

Also? Keep your eyes open. There is much to be seen:

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A D.C. Rant for the Road

A D.C. Rant for the Road

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

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Yesterday's post was a little emo, to be sure - but of course, I couldn't leave this city in good conscience if I didn't also leave with a few lingering rants. Because my brain is still mush, I'm mostly thinking in list form, but that's A-OK because bullet points are the best way to stage a countdown - in this case, to my number-one city-related pet peeve.

I present you: The Top Five Things I Won't Miss About the District of Columbia

5. Too-hot-to-breathe summers. It's almost October, yet I still feel like I'm suffocating from the waist down any time I wear pants outdoors, & my . The South is not my friend.
   
   
4. City vermin, i.e. rats (I swear I saw one the size of a cat the other night) & roaches (uh, remember this? And then THIS? I'm twitching just thinking about them.)
   
   
2. The bad kind of tourists. Like the "Mommy Patriots" I got stuck between on a Metro ride last week. As if the phrase "Mommy Patriots" weren't bad enough, they had to go & make these shirts, which I'm sure they must've thought were quite clever:
   
   Come rallyin' day, though, I bet they felt a lot less clever about choosing light blue...
   
   
2. Grocery shopping. You suburban folk would be appalled if you had to get yer foodstuffs the way we do here in the city. The closest supermarkets are one mile in either direction, which means loading my groceries upon my body like a pack mule as I bus home. A very sore, sweaty, whiny pack mule. My achin' back is cryin' out for a four-door sedan & a roomy trunk.

And finally, the number one thing I won't miss about our nation's capital....

1. Escalefters. I still hate you, escalefters, & that's all there is to it. After three years of your left-standing bullshiz, I don't even have any words left for you.
   
   Wait! Don't go! I found some more words: If you are standing on the right but balancing a stroller on the left, you still count as an escalefter. In fact, I'd wager to say that you count double because you're less likely to move when I say "excuse me." Or maybe I won't even say "excuse me" because, you know, I actually am a nice person - & what if there's a baby in there, precariously balancing on the left as you try to He-Man its stroller up a mechanical hill? I'm not about to risk any babies' lives here, so I'll wait. But that doesn't mean I won't have a silent temper tantrum about it behind your back the whole time & then zoom past you like Michael Phelps in the final lap as soon as the escalator meets the pavement. And then? I'll blog about you, too. Because my ire knows no bounds.

This list could probably be a whole lot longer. I didn't even include, for example, the crazies who've threatened to kill me while I tried to enjoy my public transportation experience. For that matter, I didn't even include public transportation. But I'm trying to keep it upbeat, all right? And five is a concise, not-too-much-complaining number, lest you think I'm all rant & no rave.

Anyway, I'll probably post a list soon of things I will miss. And it'll be longer, & much less whinier. But it'll probably also feel at least marginally less satisfying. So there.

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Hey, Girl, You Like '90s Sitcoms?

Hey, Girl, You Like '90s Sitcoms?

Friday, October 23, 2009

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I wasn't going to leave my house today, but being sick is boring. Like, really boring. I love me some "Wife Swap" & "Law & Order: SVU," but a girl can only take so many reruns, yanno? Also, I slept for about 16 hours yesterday, & then for a measly three last night, so my steady diet rotation of Dayquil & Nyquil is clearly effing with my internal clock a bit.

So I decide to head to work, albeit late. Circa 11 a.m., I grab a chai latte & hop a bus, & there begins the high/low point of my day. As soon as I sit down, a guy a few rows back moves to accompany me. The scene unfolds as follows:

"Hey, girl, you fine," he drawls. I ignore.
"What's your name?" he asks. I ignore.
"Where you headed?" he wonders. And I - you got it - continue to ignore.

Trying a new tactic, he goes for flirting gold: "You look like the daughter from 'Roseanne,' girl. Can I get your number?"

Oh, for crying out loud. This is the first time I've left my house in more than 48 hours. I'm wearing plastic glasses & no makeup & my hair is tangled like I just got out of a coma. I've got two teabags & an entire honey bear stashed in my purse, not to mention all those throat lozenges rattling around like I'm packing maracas. Yet some dude in a pinstripe suit still has the nerve to try to hit on me by telling me that I look like '90s high school dropout Darlene Conner?!

Mmm hmmm. This is my "Aw sheist, I DO look like Roseanne's daughter today" face. At least I left my flannel at home this fine Friday.

On a positive note, it appears that "I think I have swine flu" is a surefire way to lose the attentions of unwanted suitors.

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I'm on a Bus & It's Going Slow &...

I'm on a Bus & It's Going Slow &...

Thursday, September 24, 2009

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In keeping with my ongoing stream of bad luck when it comes to public transportation, this morning this happened:

An accident on Connecticut meant that the driver of my usual L1 went off the beaten path, weaving her way through Adam's Morgan & refusing to let any passengers off until the bus was back on its proper course. As a result, I spent at least 25 minutes on a ride that typically takes fewer than 10. I sent an "I'll be late message" to my office that included the line that's now titling this post.

So while trapped, at the suggestion of a coworker, I composed a song on my iPhone - ain't technology grand? You might recognize the original tune:

Forgive the language of my lyrics, but T-Pain made me do it. Enjoy!

"I'm On a Bus"

By Suburban Sweetheart

Oh shit, get your SmarTrips ready
It's about to go down
Everybody in the place stay in your fucking seats
But stay on your motherfucking toes
We're stuck in traffic, let's go

I'm on a bus, I'm on a bus
Everybody look at me
'Cause I'm stuck on a bus
I'm on a bus, I'm on a bus
Take a good hard look
At the motherfucking bus

I'm on a bus, motherfucker, take a look at me
Straight waitin' on a bus in the middle of the street
Whining with strangers, glad I got Twitter on my phone
You can't help me motherfucker, 'cause I'm on a bus

Take a cab, trick, I'm on a bus, bitch
We sweatin' balls, champ, and it drips.
I got my iPhone & my work clothes,
I'm working my temper, you're at work doin' your thing.

I'm riding WMATA, doing flips and shit
This bus is sittin’, getting everybody all pissed
But this ain't a nightmare, this is real as it gets
I'm on a bus, motherfucker, don't you ever forget

I'm on a bus & it's going slow &
I got half a mind to hit the driver with my hand.
I need to get rescued, on a bus like Keanu
If you're at work, then be glad that it’s me & not you
Get the fuck up, this bus is real

Fuck ground, I'm on a bus, motherfucker
Fuck trees, I climb seats, motherfucker
I'm on the road with some strangers, motherfucker
This bus engine make noise, motherfucker

Hey, WMATA, if you could see me now:
An hour late to work & I’m like “Wow.”
Gonna ride this bus into hell somehow.
Like Kevin Garnett, anything is possible.

I'm on a bus, I'm on a bus
Everybody look at me
'Cause I'm stuck on a bus
I'm on a bus, I'm on a bus
Take a good hard look
At the motherfucking bus

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Blog Carnival: Most Miserable Morning Ever

Blog Carnival: Most Miserable Morning Ever

Monday, June 29, 2009

6 comments

This post is a part of 20SB’s Looking Back Blog Carnival, and Ben & Jerry’s is awarding free ice cream to lucky bloggers and readers! More info on the Blog Carnival is here, but the gist this time is that participating bloggers re-post an entry from their first two months of blogging - one that captures their blogging mentality at the time. Since the August 2007 inception of Suburban Sweetheart, I truly don't think my "mentality" has changed much - if anything, I've become less adept at surrpetitious Metro photography & as a result post fewer photographs of pitiful strangers.

But one major thing has changed: I live in the District now. I began this blog because I was living out in Silver Spring, MD, traveling an hour to work & encountering a series of bizarre experiences along the way: Memorable incidents include the time I thought my car was stolen and the time I was threatened with death. But I think this one, written only a few weeks into my post-Ohio life, really captures the full extent of my transportation misery. Enjoy.

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Most Miserable Morning Ever

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

7:43 a.m. --- I leave my house to drive to the bus station to catch the 7:51 bus.

7:47ish a.m. --- I double-check with a woman who's also waiting: "Does this bus go to Glenmont?" She tells me it does... so I wait.

7:51 a.m. --- The bus going the other direction has come & gone (with Directional Woman on board). I sit alone at the station with an Ethiopian woman dressed in a parking attendant uniform. No bus.

7:52 a.m. --- The garbage truck passes by, emitting a smell so nauseating that Ethiopian Attendant & I gag in tandem.

7:55 a.m. --- A white poodle pees on the side of the busstop sign in front of us. "Wow, we sure do have a great spot here," I joke. Ethiopian Attendant laughs. We strike up a conversation about the woes of public transportation. We have both been in D.C. for fewer than two weeks.

8:00 a.m. --- Still no bus.

8:05 a.m. --- Still no bus.

8:06 a.m. --- "I'm going to drive to the Metro station," I tell Ethiopian Attendant. Somewhat trepidatiously, I offer, "Do you want a ride?" She accepts, & we walk to my car as I think to myself, "Shit. I am about to be mugged & left for dead by a middle-aged immigrant woman wearing Velcro shoes."

8:15 a.m. --- I confide in Ethiopian Attendant (real name: Ganette) that I'm afraid someday I'll drive to the station only to find myself parking-spotless. And whaddaya know? The lot is, you guessed it, full.

8:16 a.m. --- Graciously, I drop Ganette off on the 5th floor of the parking structure so that she can catch a train. "Drive carefully," she tells me. "And thank you so much. Have a good day!" I mentally pat myself on the back: If I'm going to pick up a stranger, at least I chose one with good manners.

8:17 a.m. --- Panic sets in. No parking. I have, essentially, driven to the Metro station for the sole purpose of dropping off a stranger at the train station. I decide that karma probably owes me one.

8:18 a.m. --- I leave my mother a frantic voicemail, as though she can help me from Ohio. I ask two Metro policemen for directions, then promptly burst into tears. "Drive to Wheaton," one tells me."There are always spots there." His directions to Wheaton suck. I keep crying.

8:19 a.m. --- In succession, I leave voicemails for Becca & Jessie telling them I'll be late to work. In a last-ditch effort, I also call Ben, who answers... & I start crying again. I promptly feel like a toolbag, despite his niceness.

8:22 a.m. --- I am supposed to be at work in half an hour. My commute takes approximately 45. After making a couple more laps around the parking structure, I do the natural thing... and head home.

8:31 a.m. --- I arrive back at my original bus stop, where I've chosen to park my car & wait for the next bus. I realize that the 7:51 bus I'd been waiting for was actually scheduled to arrive at 8:08 - exactly two minutes after I hopped in my car to drive to Glenmont. I remind myself to look at the "Monday - Friday" schedule from now on, & not the "Sunday" schedule. But if I ever need a 7:51 a.m. ride to Glenmont on a Sunday, I now know such transportation exists.

8:36 a.m. --- Bus arrives, thankthefreakinglord.

8:45ish a.m. --- I finally (& angrily) board my em-effing train.

9:00 a.m. --- I am supposed to be at work. Instead, I'm somewhere near Takoma, listening to Eminem's "Slim Shady" on my iPod.

9:30 a.m. --- I arrive at the Dupont station.

9:33 a.m. --- I walk into my place of employment.

9:34 a.m. --- I reach into my purse & am struck by its emptiness. Astonished (& pissed), I realize why: My lunch is missing. Who the hell loses canned tuna & a butterscotch pudding? And more importantly - how??? I begin to wonder whether Ganette stole my home-packed meal.

______________________

____CUT TO EVENING____

______________________

9:07 p.m. --- After bowling & dinner with my coworkers, I board the redline Metro toward home.

9:50 p.m. --- And after an excruciating ride that forced me to listen to a fellow Ohioan (& recent D.C. transplant) tell his former Miami University frat brother about his swanky new job as a legislative assistant (whateverrrr), I arrive at my stop & literally sprint to the busstop upstairs, only to find that tonight's bus did, in fact, depart on time - at 9:47, a whopping three minutes ago.

9:51 p.m. --- I spend $12 to take a taxicab to my car, still parked five-ish miles away at this morning's busstop.

10:03 p.m. --- My canned tuna, butterscotch pudding & Capri Sun are sitting on the passenger's seat of my car, where they have apparently been all day. After all this, I am oddly comforted to realize that my hitchhiker didn't rob me of lunch.

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On-The-Go Beauty

On-The-Go Beauty

Sunday, June 28, 2009

6 comments

I guess sometimes you just don't have time to trim your beard before leaving the house.




Do yo' thang, my friend.

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Metro Outage Phenomenon: Urban Hitchhiking!

Metro Outage Phenomenon: Urban Hitchhiking!

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

10 comments

The damage caused by yesterday's Metro accident carried over into this morning, when WMATA.com told me there were delays on all lines of all colors. Intent on finding another way to work, I left my place circa 9:45 a.m. just in time to miss a bus.

No big deal because apparently the bus refused to pick up the would-be passengers waiting at my stop, anyway! The folks waiting were livid - apparently at least two buses had already made their way by without letting them on, each claiming, "There's a bus behind me!" A few more passed before two of my fellow trying-to-be-travelers did the unthinkable - they stuck their thumbs out to solicit rides from passersby in vehicles.

To my surprise, a few folks stopped to ask where we were headed, apologizing when they weren't going our way. Finally, a friendly guy flying solo said he could take us as far as Dupont. Four of us piled in, one toting a suitcase, & off we went down Connecticut Avenue.

I tried to ignore the fact that our Good Samaritan chauffeur bore a strikingly strong resemblance to Sylar, the brain-slicing villain from "Heroes," & instead focus on what good karma this dude was packing. I just kept thinking, "Hey, we could take him if we needed to" & thinking what my mom would say once I told her about this newest adventure.

Proof of my urban hitchhiking experience lives in this photo, surreptitiously snapped from my spot in the back seat. Please ignore the shadow of my finger; it's tough to be sly when you're riding bitch.

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DC's Public Transportation Nightmare

DC's Public Transportation Nightmare

Monday, June 22, 2009

8 comments

In case you haven't turned on a television, listened to a radio or used a computer in the past two & a half hours, today's big news is this: The Metro crashed.

Two train cars on the redline (the line I live on), collided head-to-rear around the start of rush hour between Fort Totten & Takoma Park when one train slammed into a stopped train ahead of it. A 7:15 press conference by Mayor drian Fenty, DC Fire Chief Dennis Rubin & Metro General Manager John Catoe confirmed that at least four people are dead, including the driver of the latter train, & as many as 100 are injured, some critically. It's being reported as the deadliest Metro crash in history - & the fire department has indicated that it suspects the body count will rise.


After hearing the news, I raced home as well as one can "race" when taking a bus with what felt like the rest of the city (travel is mighty tight when there's no way to get home), & turned on the TV to discover that the photos & videos are much, much worse than I ever could have imagined. With one train literally sitting atop the other in a heap of twisted metal, it's like a scene ripped from "Die Hard."

If anything is fortunate about this situation, the only thing I can come up with is that it happened on one of the few stretches of the redline that's outside rather than underground. If anything is a blessing in such a tragedy, it's that 12 train cars full of wounded & shocked Metro riders weren't also trapped in underground tunnels, though my sometimes-clausterphobic self shudders in empathy for the folks on the otherwise-unaffected trains that are probably still stopped underground in wait as a result of the accident.


I first heard about it from one of our interns, & the from there, the "Are you OK?"s quickly started rolling in. My journalism friends from home, ever the diligent news readers, checked in on me one by one via frantic texts peppered with nervous exclamation points. Then my Twitter feed exploded, blogger friends checking in on one another's safety via "Where are you?" tweets. News stories began to expand, blog posts began to emerge, & I, for one, have successfully tracked down all but a couple of my DC friends to confirm their safety (fingers crossed for the others, please). Watching the press conference, I was struck by the enormity of my living in a city where something like this can happen.

After today's scare, I can promise you this: I will always, always check in via Twitter. If something goes down & you don't find me there, then you can start to worry. The only other good thing I can find in this disaster? Technology is, indeed, grand.

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It's a Small City, After All

It's a Small City, After All

Friday, June 12, 2009

4 comments

As of July 2008, the Population Division of the U.S. Census Bureau reported that 591,833 people inhabit the District of Columbia.

That's a lot of people, right?

So tell me why it's so damn easy to run into the handful of folks I don't want to see? Actually, scratch that. Why is it so easy to run into anyone? If they live next door to me or something, OK, I get it - I'm gonna see 'em again. But folks who live in different neighborhoods should have a fairly low chance of running into... well, folks who live in different neighborhoods!

I'm always amazed when I end up on the same train car as anyone I know. Of all the lines, of all the trains, of all the cars, of all the moments, what are the odds of bumping into somebody you've got ties to? It's a big city, & I'm inclined to feel like the odds should be way lower than they are in my mini-city of an Ohio hometown, where I'm likely to run into my entire 383-person graduating class on a single Friday evening spent on the Riverfront.

Yet it happens all the time here. Sometimes it's a positive thing: "OMGZ, Girl-I-Used-to-Intern-With, I haven't seen you in forevs, let's be BFF, kthxbai!" or "Heyyy, Guy-I-Took-to-My-Sorority-Formal, fancy meeting you at the Big Hunt on a Tuesday eve!"

And sometimes, well, it's not.

Take today, for example. I'm running a little late, which is par for the course of my life, yet I am fortunate enough to hop onto a Metro train within one minute of my arrival upon the Cleveland Park platform. Jammin' out to my newly made "Stuff No One Knows" mix on the old iPhone, I take a seat & am headed for work.

But now, I retract my usage of the word "fortunate." Sitting directly across from me is a couple, holding hands & talking cute & nuzzling a little bit. Not one for PDA, mine or yours, I sort of roll my eyes & go back to the indie rock - but wait! I know one half of that couple.

My ex-boyfriend. And his presumably new girlfriend.

"Oh, hey," I say. He nods. She does not acknowledge my presence; she also probably has no idea who I am. Can I even use the term "ex-boyfriend" if, for six months, I refused to use the word "boyfriend"? Oy.

I return to the music, for realz this time, but with infinitely more awkwardness.

Big city, indeed.

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Unicorns, Bacon Marys & the The DC Circulator: A Life-Changing Sunday

Unicorns, Bacon Marys & the The DC Circulator: A Life-Changing Sunday

Sunday, June 7, 2009

8 comments

This afternoon, I traveled to the U Street Corridor, apparently now billing itself as "MidCity," for brunch at Bar Pilar, home of the famed (at least from my perspective!) Bacon Bloody Mary. My plan, initially, was to take the L2 bus down through Adam's Morgan & then walk from U Street & 18th to Bar Pilar, at 14th & U. Unfortunately, I missed the L2 & instead walked down to Woodley Park, intermittently running alongside the bus I was still trying to catch & then battling for sidewalk space with tourists who insist upon walking four deep on their trip to/from the National Zoo.

When I got to Woodley Park, I spotted a DC Circulator bus, one of these new-fangled, previously-a-huge-mystery buses that apparently only make a few select stops along their route, connecting riders to DC hot spots more quickly than they could otherwise reach them on buses that stop every four blocks or so. Until today, the Circulators were like mythic unicorns - I'd only ever heard of their magic & glory.

OK, fine, unlike unicorns, I'd actually seen Circulator buses before, though, so maybe they weren't unicorns. How about rainbows? The DC Circulator was, until today, like a rainbow whose origins & shining, golden riches I could never locate the source of. Like, where do they stop? No one ever appeared to know. Total mystery.

Until today! Today I took a chance & hopped onto a Circulator bus at its Woodley Park starter stop, assuming it'd take me through Adam's Morgan like the L2 would've.

Ummm, I was wrong.

Instead, it quickly shot down Columbia, & by the time I realized, I was headed in the exact opposite direction in which I wanted to be traveling. I began to freak out, estimating the cab fare and/or the walking distance to Bar Pilar. But no worries! My trusty Circulator made a stop at the Columbia Heights Target (a little slice of suburban heaven plopped right inside the District!) & then continued down 14th - exactly where I needed to be!

The moral of this story, especially for all you non-Washingtonians who aren't following my directional descriptions, is that I've now discovered a quick, cheap, easy means of traveling to the one area of the District that I rarely make it to but am most interested in frequenting. U Street (MidCity?!) is amazing & has so much to offer - a real city feel, not this gentrified, Cleveland Park-y bullshiz), but it's too far from home for me to ever be very interested in trekking over there.

But the glorious Circulator costs a mere $1.00 & runs every ten minutes rather than the L2's shoddy every-half-hour-if-you're-lucky-&-only-when-you're-in-a-hurry. What's best is that unlike the L2, which ceases service circa midnight, the Circulator will take me to U Street & back until midnight every weeknight & until 3:30 a.m. on the weekends.

Sorry, sorry. The real moral of the story is this: MY LIFE HAS BEEN CHANGED.

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SWF Looking for Redline Love

SWF Looking for Redline Love

Monday, May 18, 2009

1 comment

According to the Examiner & the DCist, I should probably be walking to work.

Apparently, a new survey shows that DC Metro riders have a median income of $102,110, while Metrobus riders' median income is a paltry $69,620. And by "paltry," I mean, "That median bus-riding income is about twice what I make."

Anyone have a bike I can borrow, or something? Better yet, anyone know where I can meet one of the crazy-wealthy men who frequents DC's public transportation system? I guess I've been doing the right thing by hoping to encounter my beloved along the redline...

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The WMATA Marathon, Every Day at the Cleveland Park Station

The WMATA Marathon, Every Day at the Cleveland Park Station

Friday, May 8, 2009

3 comments

It's safe to say that I have quite a few pet peeves. I try to keep them logical - you know, not nitpicking too much, sticking to things that annoy other people, too - but sometimes I just can't hold myself to that.

This morning, I casually made my way through the Cleveland Park Metro station. A train was clearly on its way, & I could hear it rumbling on the tracks as it made its way forth. As soon as the rumbling began & the platform lights started blinking, the woman who was passing through the turnstile a couple footsteps ahead of me literally busted into a sprint. I mean, this woman was hauling ass down the stairs that lead from the mezzanine level to the platform, running like she was being chased.

The thing is this: If you're at the top of the stairs when the train starts rumbling, unless you're a geriatric who walks with a limp, a cane & absolutely zero sense of urgency, you're going to make the train. If it's not reached the platform by the time you go through the turnstile, you're going to be fine. And unless you somehow become incapacitated on your way down the stairs or create some sort of tear in the space/time continuum that sends you hurtling into the past and/or the future, you will be a passenger on that train. There is no need to hustle, there is no need to push past me or yell "Move!" and there is absolutely no reason to test out your sprinting skills.

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Freaky Friday: The Flasher & the Fighter

Freaky Friday: The Flasher & the Fighter

Friday, January 2, 2009

7 comments

Tonight I experienced a double-whammy of city livin'. While trying to convince a cranky security guard to let me into a locked building to deposit my (late) rent check, a man with very, very few teeth sidled up & yelled, "Me, too! I got rent!" The security guard ignored him, focusing on me & my fast-emerging teardrops, until he turned back to the man in shock & yelled, "Sir! ZIP UP YOUR FLY!" Against my better judgment, I did the unthinkable - I looked down. The man quickly followed the security guard's instructions & hurried away, but you get the picture -- I know I haven't been getting any action lately, but that was certainly not a welcome view.

Don't worry. The security guard dropped off my rent for me.

And after that, I headed into the Van Ness Metro station to make my way home for a fun-filled night of movie-watching. As I attempted to hustle past a group of people -- excuse me: of ESCALEFTERS -- to hurry into the station, one of the girls blocking my way passively refused to move, saying brusquely, "Read our sign!" Hers read "STOP THE MASSACRE OF PALESTINIANS." I gave the sign a sideways glance, knowing full well that she was one of the "peace" protesters who'd just come from the hundreds-deep rally outside the Israeli Embassy. And as I tried to scoot past them & their signs in silence, she yelled something to the effect of, "Doesn't that mean anything to you? Are you just like every other American?" I slid past without saying a word.

Needless to say, by night's end I felt pretty violated on more than one level.

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A Smorgasbord of District Dislikes

A Smorgasbord of District Dislikes

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

5 comments

1. Fanny packs. I've blogged about fashion faux pas in the District many a'time, but the fanny pack issue remains one of my favorite offenses. And this dude riding the redline, (who by the way was around my age) (which is, by the way, less than a quarter of a century), totally owns the fanny pack look. Which, frankly, is not the best look to take ownership of.


2. Tacky undies. This is what I get for attempting to shop at A.J. Wright, which is T.J. Maxx's skanky little cousin (& that doesn't bode well, because the Maxx is not always the cleanliest of locales). These intimates were $.99, which still feels like an unforgivable ripoff.


3. The Management. I'm guessing you can't actually read any of this sign, but it details the new security measures my realty will be installing in my building. The last line is, "Thank you for your continued residency & patience during this process," as though I'd quit living there because they're making it more secure. And as though they'd let me break my lease even if I wanted to!


4. Public Displays of Affection. Hold hands on the escalator, fine. A little peck on the cheek on the bus, OK. But when tired on the Metro, must you rest your weary head in your boyfriend's crotch? You could just as easily lean against the window as against your significant other's junk. Thanks in advance. or, in this couple's case, "Yuck."

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CREEPERS LOVE ME.

CREEPERS LOVE ME.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

No comments

While standing at a bus stop with friends sometime just after 10 p.m., a drunk dude in a suit meandered by, leering all the while. He passed us & literally turned around to stare five times before he reached the next crosswalk. He crossed, & I forgot about him.

This is, until he magically appeared on our bus about 10 minutes later. That's right, he returned to the bus stop to hop on with us &, apparently, to continue with the leering. I was doing a good job of ignoring him until he chose to chime in on our conversation. As Ben advised, "You need to approach new people!," I whined, "The last time I approached someone new it was that guy with the restraining order!" In retrospect, this is an admittedly amusing sentence, but still - I didn't need the peanut gallery butting in with, "Isn't that always the case?" (also because no, it isn't!).

I feared he'd get off at my stop, but luckily Joanna & I hopped off together & didn't follow -- safety in numbers & all that Jewish mothers' bullhooey. But lest you think "Well, that's that" and assume that the Drunken Suited Leerer was simply carried away down Connecticut Avenue in his trusty L2 steed, I assure you that he stared at us for a good 15 seconds before his ride recommenced.

I repeat: CREEPERS LOVE ME.

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