another clean-up at the omni

I wonder what happened this time.

hot ross buns

I don't know that I've ever taken the 6:20 A-bus home before. And I don't know that I ever will again.

One thing I am sure of, though, is that I was really jealous of those fellow passengers who were bearing Ross Dress for Less bags full of discounted merchandise. My home is already decorated within an inch of its life but you never know what you will find at Ross Dress for Less. Here's a hint: it doesn't need to be a dress.

where you're at

A Jamaican guy asked the young couple sitting behind him, a guy and a girl: "Where are you from?"
"Israel."
"Respect. Are you wondering why I am wearing this star of David around my neck?"
[They nod]
"The royal family of Ethiopia is descended from Solomon. I'm from Jamaica. Ethiopians were brought to Jamaica as slaves. Haile Selassie, the emperor of Ethiopia, came to Jamaica."

...

"Is this your first time in Miami?"
"We live here."
"Respect. Where do you live -- South Beach probably?"
"Yeah."

What the Jamaican man didn't seem to notice was that the Israeli guy, half of the couple he was talking at, was wearing cargo shorts. Everyone wears cargo shorts these days, don't you think? I mean, if a guy is wearing shorts, they're almost always cargo shorts. Many people have pointed this out to me.

easy come, easy gc....

There's been a lot of propaganda promoting the new tap-n-go transit farecard system that is allegedly about to be implemented in July. I'll believe it when I see it. I haven't noticed any new turnstiles being installed yet at the MetroRail stations, although apparently the senior citizens' transit cards already incorporate the new technology, and the busses have been outfitted for the new cards for a long time already.

Don't you love the name and slogan they chose to promote the new cards? They call the cards "easy cards" because they know that Miamians love things that are easy. They chose the slogan "Easy come, easy go" because they know that right after you buy one of the cards, you will lose it or get it stolen.

service center

I have never seen that Service Center lit up before. I figured it was maybe staffed at some point back in the distant past when the MDTA was eager to facilitate rides on the MetroMover. Since those days are long gone, maybe now that they have figured out how to turn the lights on, it could be an ice cream stand, or a bathroom, or both, but not at the same time. What else could it be? A Loch Ness monster observatory, a church dedicated to Our Lady of the Rails, a bathroom, an art cinema, a watch repair shop, a bathroom, or a one-room schoolhouse!

the rain in miami falls mainly on my way home

Friday night, torrential downpour.

I made it to downtown on the train, somehow, between service interruptions. I know it's raining but come on. This is supposed to be Miami, and it's not even a hurricane.

1.

The MetroMover was out of service, but I desperately wanted to take the A to the Beach just to have some semblance of normalcy to the day. The A is so calming. But the A doesn't run from the train station, so I figured I could catch the first bus that would take me to Omni, and transfer there to the A. Extra 50¢ transfer be damned.


The first bus to come was a 3, on the other side of the depot. I slipped into two deep puddles on the way to catch it. It's worth it to get to the A, I told myself. I boarded, wet, and the busdriver greeted me saying, "Hey! Where have you been?" Yes, that's right. It was another of my favorite drivers from the golden age of the A, now spreading her cheer up and down Biscayne Blvd along the 3's route. I'm glad she is out there making people smile. This is supposed to be Miami, after all.


2.

From the benches of Omni station, we could see that the Venetian was backed up, and the MacArthur was backed up too. With the Venetian as backed up as it was, there was no way the A was coming any time soon. I decided to take my chances instead on the MacArthur, so I boarded an already full M. One painfully long half-mile later, the group of us sitting in the back got to talking. There was a 13 year-old worried about his chances of going to Orlando on Saturday. There was the 13 year-old's mother, reading over my shoulder. There was a rental car employee who was sad that his cookout would now have to be cancelled. There was a waitress who really had to go to the bathroom. As we began our fourth hour of the commute, we took turns calling friends on the Beach for flood updates. Urban Outfitters flooded. West Avenue a river.

Night was falling much more quickly than we were advancing across the causeway. Every once in a while some passenger would just snap, and get off the bus to walk home. This would inspire two or three more to join before the door shut, leaving the rest of us to ponder their chances of survival out there in the wild.

In the back we thought we would take our chances on the bus, in case there was an accident just ahead of us, after which we would be able to zoom past all the walkers. The thirteen year-old was famished, so the rental car employee gave him a granola bar from his backpack. But we never crept past any accident, and eventually even we started to snap one by one. One of us would simply stand up and walk out of the bus muttering something like "gotta go," leaving the rest of us to wonder again if that was a good idea.

It was as if, one by one, each passenger reached transportation enlightenment. Something popped inside, and they floated out of the bus, liberated from its stagnation and ready to face the lingering drizzle. Finally I too got out, and once I did I realized that the MacArthur is not so long after all, at least not compared to the interminable wait on the bus, which for all I know is still stuck there as I write this. It did feel really freeing to float out of the bus, and make my own steady way across the causeway, walking past other enlightened people from the bus. None of us talked to each other; no need. Compared to what the solitary people stuck in their cars must have been feeling, it really did feel like heaven (except for the gas fumes).

I couldn't resist glancing up to imagine the train that should have been whirring by over my head on its unclogged way to the Beach. It would have been so much better if we had a train across the MacArthur, or at least a ferry across Biscayne Bay. I would love a ferry, in case anyone is listening. It doesn't even have to look like a gondola. But in the meantime, I contented myself with the thought that at least with the bus, I could just abandon it and be on my way. You can't do that with a car.

3.

As I flip-flopped my way down the wet pavement, I was getting regular updates from P. about the water level. I called J. and B. to see how it was by them, and was happy to discover that J. was actually inching along the causeway in her car not far from where I was walking. So I got into her car and we kept each other company for the last little section of ramp onto Alton Rd, during which we figured out exactly how easy it would be to start a ferry system. Answer: very easy. Flamingo to Midtown, South Pointe to downtown and the Grove. Come on. This is supposed to be Miami, people.

A thousand hands

I was waiting for the S because the A was unusable for the month of May. (The A couldn't run its full route because of repairwork on the Venetian Causeway.) I really missed the A and its nice drivers. Now I was back to taking the S, just like I did back in 2003 when I didn't know any better.

While I was waiting, the G pulled up. I sat down so the driver would know I was not waiting for this bus. But it stopped anyway, and the door opened. No one got out, but the busdriver called out to me to ask what bus I was waiting for.

"The S."

"OK I just wanted to make sure you know that the A isn't running all the way to the Omni."

"Oh yeah, I heard. Thanks."

"OK."

She closed the door and I realized that she used to be one of the drivers on the A. Do you see what I mean about how sweet they are? You can take the girl out of the A, but you can't take the A out of the girl.

and impersonal.

You can tell it's a sunny day at the Omni because the windshield wipers are not wiping. I guess I have never seen the windshield wipers in action. Then again I don't take the MetroMover as much during rainy season. I think this kind of architecture looks better up close. 

redacted

feelin' groovy

I just did something I always love to do but have never done before.

I stopped off for lunch in the middle of my commute. I got to Government Center right around lunchtime, so I hit the pause button in the middle of my normally rushed transfer, and walked over to the new food court attached to the MetroRail station complex. There used to be a Chick-Fil-A there, but now there is a cafeteria set-up where I got some roasted chicken, collard greens, "vegetable medley," and black beans and rice. 

I sat there, taking my lunch as leisurely as I could, in the magnificent Hall of Flags in this large interior courtyard. How could I explain this breezy satisfaction, I wondered. What could I compare it to. If it makes me so happy, it must be because it approximates some other joy that I had somewhere else. Like maybe it reminds me of a journey I never took by rail, back in the days when travel was glamorous in itself, when it was all about the journey. If you were hungry along the way, you might stop off at one of the small towns along the track, and order some local specialty before getting back on the train to resume your journey. Well that's sure a real nice memory of a train fantasy but I don't think that's why I loved my mid-trip lunch so much today. Is it possible to live something new that makes you smile in public because you're so happy living it, but not because it reminds you of some other time you were happy? What is there left, then, to make you happy? Maybe it was the roasted chicken; its skin was salty with juuuuust enough grease to help it slide off the meat that was sliding off the bone, but not enough grease to detract from the crispiness that you only get from a nice, slow roast.