Yesterday I actually got on the road, so to speak, a little sooner than normal so that I could do my morning pages on the way instead having to set the alarm sooner. (Seems impossible, but it can be done.) I finished half of them over oatmeal and yogurt at Specialty's Bakery in downtown San Francisco, and then figured I would wrap them up on the Bay Area Rapid Transit train to the East Bay, specifically the Oakland Airport area. Not only did I finish them, but I burnt up all of my Alt.Latino podcasts and half of the day's New York Times before I realized that the usual creeping approach to Downtown Oakland's Lake Merritt station was no longer an approach--it was a stop, pure and simple. We made it to Lake Merritt station, but no farther.
I should probably pause the narrative here to reveal a little background about the days leading up to yesterday. The the last month I have applied for two positions with my current employer that I thought were closer to my skill set--before Thanksgiving I was turned down for one, Thursday I was turned down for the other, so my employer didn't seem to agree. On Tuesday I attended a managerial meeting that gave me a rare opportunity to meet with my peers, with friends among them--but from a couple that weren't friends in the mix, it was a reminder that I really couldn't be classified as a manager in their eyes. Oh, and on Tuesday night I called it quits with yet another guy who was only putting up with me for the hope of casual sex. No relationship to go with it, just sex.
So when I started my morning pages Friday morning I was in a special place, you could say--free of two abusive relationships. The first abusive relationship, one that had been going on for four years, is set to end January 30th of 2011. The other was with a "friend" that I had thought was going somewhere but instead was just killing time. Hey, at least he was honest, right?
A step up from the marrieds, but not good enough.
So when the train stopped, the doors shut and the lights dimmed to generator power, and then revealed that it would not proceed, we all departed from the train with the promise from the young woman in the cockpit that the train right behind us would pick us up momentarily. I didn't believe her, but I didn't doubt her maliciously--my pages were done, my workplace didn't want what I could offer, and I wasn't trying to make it to any church on time.
In other words, I wanted an adventure.
As we all stood on both sides of the platform, trains stopped in both directions, I sent my mentor/boss/business partner (note to self: gotta find a title for this guy that fits in a few letters or less) a text outlining the situation, to which he replied by telling me to be safe and take my time, and I settled in. I didn't have to wait long--in the train on the opposite platform two Latina women in sweatshirts and oversized pants couldn't handle each other anymore, and started a punching match against each other. We were all asked to stay put to help out the police with witness statements, a request I found amusing since it seemed unlikely any of us would get away on a train. After statements, however, I did exit--up the stairs and to the daylight. It seemed remarkable to me that so many people where crammed underground, but on street level I could only count about six people in a four block radius.
I have no knowledge of downtown Oakland transit--while most of the Muni map is familiar to me whether I take lines like K or M or not, AC transit is a pure-neccessity item, need-to-know only. When I go into the unfamiliar I often try the dumbest idea first, which in this case was to find a cab.
No dice. None. Nada. Zero.
Then my brain went one step further in the ridiculous meter--maybe if I walked to an area that was some semblance to a tourist destination, there would be cabs there. The only one that I could think of that might be close was Jack London Square--and by close I mean that it was about 10-15 blocks from Lake Merritt station. That, and I soon remembered my impression that no tourist in his right mind would want to travel to Oakland, because there were no cabs in Jack London Square, either.
So it was back to Lake Merritt station to check on the trains, which were still locked. At last logic took over, however--I walked the station in hopes of a simple guide on how to vacate by bus, and found my answer in the AC Transit 62 line to Fruitvale BART. The announcements coming over the loudspeakers were to find transportation to the "other side of this thing"--which meant that all passengers should find buses to the West Oakland, 12th Street, and Fruitvale stations--another amusing point since the system was locked up power-wise and was therefore probably dead everywhere...but I'm not an engineer.
As we made it back to the surface people began gathering at intersections--surely there are cabs in a city the size of Oakland when there's a BART issue of this magnitude, yes? Still no. People were asking each other for cabs--I got two requests, and tried not to smile thinking of a taxi hiding in my hip pocket or handbag. When the bus finally arrived a whole crowd of us filled it--I was lucky enough to sit and see the entire city of Oakland as a tour on this line. The 62 is perhaps the longest bus line I have ever experienced, stopping so much that to add any stops would mean that we would be stopping at residential driveways between intersections.
The surreal picture of the Fruitvale BART station prompted a renewed prayer in finding a taxi there--the track in Fruitvale is elevated, which means that for those who had the foresight to look up when they got off the bus there was the immediate knowledge that we were not on "the other side of the problem." Trains were stopped every quarter mile or so in both directions. The good news was taxis were in rotation--there wasn't a line of them waiting for fares, but I managed to snag the second one that drove up.
"How's your morning going?" the driver asked me in tone that spelled oblivious.
"Adventuresome," I replied quietly, grinning.
"Really? Why's that?"
"Let's just say that if you were at the Lake Merritt BART station right now you would be making money hand over fist."
He eyeballed me warily in the rearview, wondering. "Why's that?" he asked again.
"Because the power grid is out on BART, and that station is where it started."
"For real?"
"Look at the line above us."
Looking back, I considered it wise on my part to have pointed this out while we were stopped at a light, or my driver might have run us off the road in his excitement. For the rest of my journey to my employer's location he alternated between profusely thanking me and calling buddies on the phone--"Yeah, brother, I'm telling you it's locked. You gotta see this. It looks like an f-in' railyard." Someone had hit the lottery.
Ah, the perfect solution:
- I got some time off from a job that no longer needs me
- I got to benefit a guy in a casual relationship without having utilize sex at some point
Onward, thank God, to the next adventure.
