Ghost bus
April 13, 2013
That was the oddest bus ride home—or anywhere—ever!—because I had the whole damned thing to myself! I have a 1.75 mile ride home. There were eight stops on the way, give or take. Nobody got on. I didn’t get off. Weird. This was at 9pm on a Friday evening. There should have been somebody else, even if only onebody else.
I’ve said before—I’m so incredibly fortunate that I don’t have to drive my car to work. Home to work is less than two miles.
I have the light rail available, for a five-minute walk. I like that best because it’s the smoothest ride and once you get on it, it’s the fastest and it drops me off kitty corner from my building, thought I usually get off the stop before because I can walk to my door about a minute faster, and sometimes that important, so it’s the habit I’ve gotten into.
I also have several bus options. If I walk five minutes, I can find the 3, 16, or 50 which will then drop me off half a block from the office. Or, I can catch the 22 practically right outside my door. The trouble with the 22 is that once I get downtown, I have to either walk seven minutes or catch a bus connection on 4th Street. It turns out that three of those connections are the aforementioned 3, 16, and 50. Difference is, if I hop onto the 22 first, then I only have to walk 50 yards rather than five minutes to their own stops.
If I end up on the 22 to downtown there are also two or three express bus options to transfer to, because once they get downtown they’re pretty much like any other local bus. I still get dropped off half a block from the office. Life is tough.
In the Google Maps scheme of things if you’re inclined to stalk me, there’s not much difference between my home neighborhood and downtown proper, really. Well, if you’re from Chicago or something. Or if you’re from a small town. Which probably more people are than not.
It’s good to know I have options.
Travelogue: the miracle of technology
September 25, 2012
In flight from SFO to MSP.* Can’t tweet about it, so I might as well write an overdue blog entry about something, anything.
And what’s on my mind at this moment, big surprise, is the travel part of the trip. This is the first time I’ve flown since June 2010. In the meantime, things have gotten all appified. I flew on United Airlines and with their iPhone app, I never even had to look at a counter or live person. You frequent fliers are probably sitting there thinking, aw, isn’t that cute, but I got a big kick out of tapping a few buttons on my iPhone and having everything magically taken care of. Just showing a QR code on your iPhone screen to the magic red hole at security and the gate? Come ON! And when I crammed all the California beer that I bought into my suitcase thus necessitating a checked bag, how convenient to order that up via the app, too. Okay, so I had to briefly visit a person at a counter to drop it off, but still.
The car rental was very nearly as painless. Renting a car is something I never do. I’m going to say the last time was ten years ago, and that was only because my own (previous) car had trouble mid-trip and I had to leave it for service. Usually I embrace the local public transportation system (London, Chicago), but for this trip I had to get to a couple of inaccessible places on Saturday and Sunday. Anyway, the car rental process was very streamlined as well.
My only complaint about any of this is that the employees of these various companies process hundreds of people a day, probably, and it’s obvious they go on autopilot with what they’re saying which can make them a little difficult to understand, particularly if they have an accent. Though I could easily have gotten between airport and hotel Thursday evening and this (Tuesday) morning on the train service, I drove. On my free days Friday and Monday, I took the Caltrain into San Francisco from San Carlos and yet again, it couldn’t have been easier.Once in San Francisco, I got all excited and bought a day-pass for the MUNI and scratched off the date before I needed to use it, and then ended up not using it at all because I just walked and walked and walked. I regretted that had I comprehended better how it works, I could have saved it for Monday when I was back in San Francisco. But that day, I also just walked everywhere. I guess I don’t mind paying an extra $14 knowing I don’t have to stress out about a car in the city.
So now I will soon be back home, where I’ll hop on Minneapolis’ own light rail line, which will deliver me mere blocks from my home.
Technology and public transportation, for the win!Addendum: Today, three days after my return as I was bidding my coworker auf wiedersehen for her trip to Germany, I learned that she, too, was flying United. I promptly gave her a spiel about the app and sent her on her fröhlich way.
*As you may have guessed, I wrote this one before “I go out walking.” But “I go out walking” seemed more interesting a week ago, and it probably still is.The night in bus ride: home from work
December 18, 2010
I was supposed to ride a route from start point to end point and document, but I misunderstood. So instead, I simply got home from work.
I wanted to take the 7 because it picks me up right outside of work and lets me off right outside of home. Unfortunately, I went to this stop which was half a block away from the office in the wrong direction from where the 7 actually stops. At first (second), I thought I’d get on this 50 but there were too many other people getting on.
Besides, a 3 was right behind it, which goes the same way as far as I needed to take it.
So I got on it instead.
There were fewer people. That made me happy.
The 3 and I parted ways at the Metrodome. The poor, deflated Metrodome. Ah, now you’re paying attention. There’s no puff on the top, is there.
Unfortunately, neither the 50 nor the 3 go right to my mid-ride stop, so I had to walk about a quarter mile to get to Sorella for an informal wine tasting.
The wine tasting didn’t really take that long, so I had a while to wait for my transfer, which would now be the 7, or the 22. Either one deposits me satisfactorily close to home. Here comes a 22.
There were a few more people on the 22 …
… including me!
And, home. Astute friends will notice Palmer’s Bar just ahead.
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