bikers over riders

alright, bikers, it's gettin harder and harder for us pedestrian passengers of public transit to take your presence kindly.  you take up at least three bodies' worth of standing room when you don't act stupid.  this is something metro, in their infinite wisdom, has decided to formalize.

seats removed for bikes, strollers and large luggage

that's right.  two rows of seats and a handicapped seat have been removed from a whole lotta trains because there are so many more of you bikers than when gas was only $3.50/gal.  on some trains, it's a full three rows, six seats.  congratulations for makin more of the rest of us tired riders stand in your honor.  half the time, you bikers even rub salt in the wound, taking a seat while leaving your bike to fall over on someone.

someone sitting across the doorway from his bike

but, no, that's enough, is it?  instead of making use of the sanctioned spaces, you gotta crowd the doorways of the trains makin it a serious project for the rest of us to get on or off.  and for your inconsideration, what penance do you pay?  why, yall get off first, to, y'know, make room.

two bikes in the doorway

and if that ain't enough, there's been a serious spike in the number of yall crowdin your way onto an already crowded train and only riding a stop or two.  why you wasting time?  it's hard to find two, even three, consecutive train stations in the county far enough apart that you can't ride faster than it is to wait for the train.

so, enough of my ranting, what's to be done about this?

the best i can come up with is hopin this bike share thing works out and expands dramatically.  maybe if there are bikes everywhere, no one'll feel the need to bring em on the train.  the logistics of this are questionable, but it's one tiny glimmer of hope since it's become clear relying on bikers' general considerate nature is failing.

now, if bike sharing don't work and the legions of bikers continue to have enough bad apples causing me to voice my grief, i might just have to advocate for a bike ban.  no one wants that, do they?

bob marley in the house (not literally of course)

sometimes it's hard to know if people go out of their way to become living stereotypes or if it just comes naturally.  i'm sure i'm guilty of living a cliche when looked through the right lens, but some people live their cliches when looked through just about every lens.

i invite you to take a look at the above picture and take a wild guess at what the dude smelled like.  at first, you might be tempted to say "urine" because he looks homeless, but it don't take but a day or two of being homeless to make one realize a paper bag is no way to carry one's possessions.  even at the height of summer, moisture forms overnight and damp paper gives way to ripped bag before the sun comes up.  also, the homeless tend not to wear such light-colored pants and when they do, they tend not to stay that clean.

well if your train detective and profiling skills haven't led you to a reasonable answer yet, it comes as no surprise to the rest of us that this guy smelled like reefer -- dread-locks, bob marley t and burnout blanket being pretty dead giveaways.  now i'm not gonna go around accusing anyone of anything.  who knows?  maybe he was just in the room and maybe he didn't inhale.  but that'd be an awful shame.

recycler

everyone knows that taking public transportation helps the environment by using less energy per passenger-mile traveled than driving solo.  but did you also know that by funding public transportation, we are also funding recycling efforts?

sun block

sometimes, there is a need to protect yourself from the direct beams of light shot at you from the sun.

sometimes there is not.  i can't imagine that holding a jacket like that would actually cool a person off.  i would probably end up actually sweating even more.  but if i honestly believed the reward for that sweat is not getting skin cancer, maybe i'd do it.  but wait!  what about that left forearm!  ahhhhhh!

nerd 49

a clear indication that nerd oppression has hit all-time lows.  i'm happy about this, of course, but i wonder what makes nerd49 think s/he is a nerd.  also, is there a nerd36 out there?  or perhaps a nerdpi or nerdavogadro?  or maybe the 49 refers to the square of the number of characters in "nerd 49" (it does look like there's a space, doesn't it?).  but what would that mean?  for each letter in "nerd 49" there's another phrase of exactly 7 characters?  maybe we have a master scrabble player (but there are no numbers in scrabble).  or is 49 some underground nerd slang i don't know about?  maybe a fan fiction author or pwn palace regular?

wait, wait, graffiti artists usually like sports.  49 is the 49ers probably.  though raiders fans are more common amongst graffiti-writers, maybe that's what makes nerd49 a nerd.  49ers sought gold.  i got it!  nerd49 is rich.

no, no, that can't be quite right.  so many questions, so little time.

little objects

i've had a few posts of the "weird big object brought on train" variety.  here are a couple of "weird little objects brought on train" pictures.

usually i only see instruments outside their cases on the train if they're being played for change.  this guy has "weird collector" written all over him, but he's also got "beleaguered teacher" written all over him too.  maybe i should have saved this as a brain teaser.

i'm not sure if i find this pair of hands acting as a hair holder creepy or clever.  from my peripheral vision, its creepy because i think there's a small fairy being enslaved for cosmetic purposes.  looked at directly, however, it's kind of clever because a fairy would never wear such a tacky set of pearls on her wrist.

shopping bags

one very obvious difference as you travel between different parts of this fair city of angels is the shopping bags. there are some parts of town where plastic top valu bags are the norm.  other parts of town see a lot more paper trader joe's bags.  and somehow, forever xxi transcends territorial boundaries.  i'm sure there's something very deep to be said about demographics, geography and class regarding the what, when and where of shopping bags, but one fairly obvious one (at least once you know to look for it) that was pointed out to me by a close friend can be illustrated by these pictures.

as nice as it would be to believe that this woman is returning home from her trip to restoration hardware, i'm quite certain this just isn't the case.  we're actually travelling towards the nearest restoration hardware and it's miles and miles away.  returning something perhaps?  at the time of day this picture was taken, there's no way to reach restoration hardware via train before closing.  here, we have another similar story with victoria's secret.

now i'm not suggesting that victoria's secret is not within the reach of this woman nor that any such shopping she might do there is unexpected.  however, i have been to the lingerie shop enough to know that when they pack the bag, it's never that full and they always top the bag with frilly-looking tissue.  also, as it just so happens, while i wasn't taking this photo, i noticed the contents of the bag were definitely much more suggestive of a hoodie than anything victoria's secret sells.

nothing says "i love my farmer's market" quite like a plastic bottle of coke.  well, nothing but a bag with "i love my farmer's market" actually printed on it anyway.

now, why all these shopping bags from places most likely not shopped at?  the nearest i can tell is domestic help is returning home with some gifts from residents of helped domicile.  after all, just because you're paying someone slave wages to clean up after you and look after your offspring or step-offspring doesn't mean you aren't racked with guilt over it.  the feeling is easily assuaged by sending the help home with a little not-good-enough-for-me-but-you-might-find-it-nice care package once in a while.  "here, put it in this restoration hardware bag i happen to have lying around.  that way, you can feel fancy on the train without blowing the thousands of dollars i made my husband spend on doorknobs and drawer pulls."

modern furniture

i believe they call this "flintstone moderne."

brain teasers, pt 5

unbridled patriot or guy whose bags never cross presidential administrations?

art theater manager or maestro salieri reborn, plotting a nemesis' death?

child of chris farley and meat loaf or child of chris farley and michael madsen?

ok, this one's a little different.  it's about the garment, not the person, and there's a ternary (ie, 3-way) choice.

pashmina, sari or toga?

paper clothes, pt 2

remember them folks in paper clothes i wrote about a while back?  well, had a couple of em ask me for directions.  should come as no surprise they were heading to county* to pick up their belongings.  though i knew that before they said anything to me, i didn't wanna be insulting or presumptuous.  after going through the formalities of the directions, the shaved-head latino said, "just finished in jail.  first time.  73 days.  dui."  it's like he had to make this introduction every day for, well, 73 days.  though he was latino, his accent almost sounded more eastern european.  "it's crazy, man.  but, man, i was so drunk.  it's messed up, you know.  it's the system too.  i'm from venice."  for you non-angelenos, that's the venice that gives venice beach it's name, not the venice in italy.  "professional musician.  i play the drums.  where are you from?"  after i answer, he continues, "you ever come to venice, look for the drums. you find me."

he turns to his friend, who looks a bit like a shorter, less intimidating version of nick sobotka from the wire.  "you go to the valley after?"

"i'm supposed to.  sort all that out when i get my phone.  right now, i'm too pissed to even think about it."

"man, you got to have money and brains.  i been in venice thirty years.  i got all kind of money.  but you need brains.  you have money and no brains, you lose everything."  truer words were never said.

i look down the train after we've been riding a bit.  the shaved-head guy is doing chin-ups on the upper hand rail.  seventy three days'll build up some funny habits, won't it?


* -- that would be l.a. county jail for those of you not up on incarceration lingo.

earplugs, if freddie freeloader doesn't interest you

i happen to like hearing all the weird, incendiary and often inane chatter on the train.  it helps me keep my finger on the pulse of things that probably don't want to have their pulse taken.  not surprisingly, many people are not like me.  most of them wear headphones, bobbin their heads to whatever beat's rockin their world right that moment.  but some just want to enjoy the silence.

trash porn, pt 13

shattered dream not yet worth putting in the trash.  it may still have life.  but for who?

irony of ... iron (or maybe aluminum)

i've seen a lot of crazy contraptions associated with bikes.  there are those trailers for taking your kids.  there are those weird things that go on in front instead that are almost as big as the kid-size trailers.  there was the candyland bike.  and this guy (not really a contraption, but still associated with a bike).  and then, there's the thing pictured below.

that there is an oxygen tank strapped to a bike with a hose feeding the nostrils of the rider.  what's the irony here?  well, what if this person were playing a pick-up game of basketball with the tank on his back?  i guess i just don't associate heightened physical activity with someone who needs an oxygen tank.  and there's the delicate issue of what happens in an accident and the tank regulator gets knocked off.

nonetheless, you gotta hand it to this guy.  he'll use a lot less oxygen biking to the hospital (trust me, he was on his way there) than walking.

creative ways to pass the time

i used to love jumping rope.  what happened?  i became old enough to go to high school.  this girl has yet to give in to the pressures of life that forced jumping rope out of my life.

ooohhh!  this is more my speed.  a lot of people simply listen to their headphones.  much more brainpower and time is required to undo a gordian knot of frustration.  unlike a rubik's cube, the challenge is vastly different, every single time.  this puzzle managed to keep this person busy the whole time they were riding.

olympic training

i had forgotten that the olympics are this summer.  all i had to do to be reminded was watch tv.  the ads, they are a comin -- a lot of them, very often.

but, i didn't need tv to tell me that the olympics was comin.  even before the deluge of advertising started, there was this bus driver.  clearly, he's training during his layover.

smoker's defiance

in one of the more confrontational scenes i've witnessed on the train, the man on the left below came on board the train (which, by the way, waited for him unnecessarily) with a lit cigarette.  when someone told him cigarettes aren't allowed on the train, he replied, "give me a ticket then."  people were visibly covering their faces to avoid inhaling the second-hand smoke.

defiant smoker on the left, slightly worried but mostly indifferent man on the right

he took offense to a woman in the corner.  i didn't hear her say anything, so it may have been a look or maybe she was fanning the smoke away.  "you gonna give me a ticket?  you broke-ass bitch.  you best get some security for you muthafuckas."  the profanity-laced tirade went on.  maybe i'm cynical, but i got the feeling that despite his bluster, no one was really scared of this guy.  the feeling i got was, "fine, dude, have it your way."  perhaps some of the nurses on board were thinking, "when you're in the hospital, we'll remember you."  probably not though, as nurses tend to have gentler souls than my vengeful ass.

well, no one did give him a ticket.  i sort of get the feeling his entire life is a ticket and just one more might make him snap.  anyhow, he got off at the next stop.  maybe due to his smoking, the mile between stops was too much for him to do on bike. 

the lit cigarette and busted up handlebar pad of winners

i fully understand this guy's life is probably shit and, as dave chappelle told us (well, me anyway), he ain't got no therapist, so he takes to booze and cigarettes.  what i don't get is he didn't take a single drag off the cigarette while he was on the train.  smokers, correct me if i'm wrong, but isn't that just wasteful?

i thanked the man who spoke up as we got off the train and another woman getting off said some kind words to the one that had the tirade directed at her.  crisis both binds and breaks.

freddie freeloader's aunt

"he know i don't use no dove soap*.  when he done, it look like five people done used my soap.  he knew i been drinkin.  why he gotta use my last clean towel?!  he come, use my soap, my water, eat my food.  can't even bring his own damn food.  he know i been drinkin, he bring a full plate of restaurant food all up in here.  don't bring none for me."

epilog
"she did something fucked up and cleared all my food stamps."

* -- thanks, steve nash and shaquille o'neal.

ghost train

they say ridership is increasing.

and that's probably true.

i can feel the presence of all the spirits of metro riders past.  one of them says, "they say...a compooter can do my job...better than i can damn do it."  i get the feeling this particular spirit looks like any one of these three guys (picture taken from a previous post).

brain teasers, pt. 3

phish lover or occupy legal advisor?

on the way to a biker rumble or to get fitted for a poodle skirt?

proud fashion icon or forgetful lunch lady?

mad scientist or the most interesting person in the world's little brother?

here on the range i belong

driftin along with the tumblin' tumblweed.