When Little Things Become Big Things

(Written about 6/30/08, posted when it says)

"Oh darn, I'm out of bread.", "Rats, my watch battery just died.", "Stupid new cell phone! It won't go a day on a charge!", "Great! - FSA refund checks! Now I just need to go cash them!"

Things like the above are all part of a normal, everyday life experience, and fall under that famous slogan (and book) "Don't sweat the small stuff..."

That is, until you become "transportationally disabled" by intermittent/severe vertigo attacks (and "routine" balance issues).

So for the safety of society, and yourself, you decide to stop driving, and rely solely on public transit, friends, etc., to get you around.

Suddenly, something strange happens to the "small stuff" - in flagrant violation of the premise of that famous book, it becomes big stuff after all. Allow me to explain...

Most folks don't use public transit (PT) for several (possible) reasons, not least of which is the fact that you're forced to conform to their schedules rather than what might be optimal for you. Of course, that's assuming that their (PT) schedules can even come close to matching your need. And THAT was before the (California) legislature, at the bidding of the governor, recently slashed the PT budget, resulting in the further thinning out of already thin transit services.

So now consider: You need the battery in your watch replaced. Experience tells you it's a pretty good idea to have a jeweler or at least a savvy electronics type familiar with changing watch batteries do it (and buy the battery from them, hopefully). It's more than worth the money to avoid the hassle and possible damage you might do attempting it with inadequate tools and knowledge.

So all you need to do is go uptown to the local mall where you bought the watch originally, and where the gentleman who sold it to you assured you he'd happily service it any time. A quick drive, a few minutes for him to handle the job; pay the man, and you're done. NOT.

In reality, you're staring at a minimum, 2 - 3 hours of WEEKDAY time in the face. Weekday. Hmmmm. What do we like (sic) to do on weekdays? Oh, that's right - it's called working for a living. Why is it 2 - 3 hours? Enter PT (public transit, in case you forgot).

In Stockton (CA), there is (happily) a bus that travels from very near my residence to said mall. So far so good! It runs (now) every 1.5 hours on WEEKDAYS (it also runs weekends, every 2.5 hours). Now do the math.

I catch the bus at the appropriate moment (assuming it isn't late), and merrily roll along to the mall. I exit the bus, go see the man, etc., etc., and now it's time to go home. That took me (counting travel) maybe 30 minutes. Great. Now I can proceed to wait at the bus stop (weekdays) 1 hour. On a weekend, I can wait 2 hours. Are we having fun yet?

Sure, you say, but why don't you maximize your time at that mall?

Exactly. And that's why my watch, today, is still precisely correct exactly twice a day. Because I'm not going to get it fixed until I have collected enough "necessitators" to make that trip worthwhile. And that, my friends, is the life of a non-driver.

And again, all of the above "math" assumes that said buses are running on schedule. That in itself turns out to be a rather fanciful assumption. Anyone who has ridden PT for awhile knows that the published schedules represent the EARLIEST times you can expect the bus/train/whatever to appear at the designated stop. Yeah, yeah, most people would say what's a few minutes here or there. Except it isn't always a few minutes. Sometimes it's more than a half-hour. Sometimes (for all practical purposes), it isn't AT ALL.

So back to the watch battery. Let's say I decide to take the late bus right when I get home from work (on my commute bus). Compelling question: What are my odds of getting home THAT NIGHT? To be honest, they're probably better than 90%. What would you decide to do if you had, say a 10% chance of not making it home? No, it's not huge, but remember - if you lose the bet, you DON'T GET HOME.

Well why don't you just get a friend to give you a ride? (I hear you thinking). Sure. And believe me, I do, all too frequently. It's just that there's this thing called schedules, and independence. Other people have busy lives, full of "small stuff" just like me, and they're dealing with it, albeit at a somewhat faster pace. When you ride the bus, one thing you learn very quickly is patience. Time is not money, time is molasses. My friends who help me on occasion know how deeply I appreciate it, because I'm always very certain to let them know directly or in some reciprocal way.

None of that can fully mitigate the fact that in a driving society, the non-driver (for whatever reason) is seriously disadvantaged (for example, why isn't it the law that ALL public roads in incorporated areas shall have sidewalks? A: Pedestrians are an unavoidable nuisance).

This all leads naturally to the (mostly self-imposed) transit fiasco I suffered over a recent weekend.

I'd been invited to my sisters' home in El Cerrito (SF bay area) - about 50-60 miles from my home in Stockton. The good news is I'm experienced at (most of) this trip. I know well that there's an Amtrak train that runs regularly (weekends) from Stockton to Richmond (a near stones throw from my final destination) - and it's way cheaper than driving would be (if I did that).

All I have to do is get myself from my home to the train station - on the other end, my sister will pick me up; but there's a catch. My sister and her partner have an obligation to tend to, very shortly after my train is scheduled to arrive - so if it's late, I'll need to get a cab. None of this represents any "transit stress" - I can certainly handle it, I assume. I've got my "trusty" cell phone with me (containing all the needed phone numbers, addresses, etc.) - the battery indicator says it's fully charged (and was, recently - do you hear the "Jaws" theme playing yet?)

Now, I'm really proud of myself that I've learned how to manage the Stockton (city) bus schedules like a pro. My train leaves at 9:00 a.m., so I'll take a 7:30 near my house to downtown, then hook up with an 8:00 that will take me directly to the Amtrak station well before my departure time. And indeed, it all goes off without a single glitch.

And Amtrak is in Stockton on time! This is going way too well to please Murphy.
I'm rolling along the Delta, toward the Bay Area, and my sister texts me asking how the trip is going (on time?) - I'm pleased to report back that everything looks like a "go".

Then, just past Martinez, the train (as trains sometimes do) comes to a full stop in the middle of nowhere. The pilot or captain or engineer or whoever it is lets us know we'll be losing about 5 minutes waiting on some freight train or something.

I decide it would be a good idea to let my sister know I'm probably going to be a bit late, and perhaps she could arrange the cab for me. I open up the cell phone to find the "sad battery" (flashing) logo (and an appropriate message). "Odd," I think, since it was showing full charge not 3 hours ago, and it's done nearly no work since. I change my mind about texting my sister and turn OFF my phone to conserve what little battery life may remain - for an emergency should it crop up.

Fast forward to my arrival in Richmond. The train is late as expected, and my sister is nowhere to be found. Not a problem. I'll just call a cab and give them the address I stashed in the cell phone. Phone on (phone off). Phone on (phone off). The battery is DEAD. My sister's address is new. So here I am at the Amtrak station in Richmond, no cell phone, don't know my sister's address (nor her phone number), and don't know another soul in the area who I could call (on a payphone). Nor did I know the number (in my phone) of an out of area person who could serve as a "relay".

So I reviewed my options. Then I reviewed them again. Just to be sure, I reviewed them a third time. Yep. I had exactly one.

There's a novel I've read; so long ago I can't remember either the title or the author, but it describes a sure fire method of finding anyone you're looking for (assuming they're ambulatory, etc. - and looking for you) - it's called the Advanced Theory of Search. It's actually the most recommended method if you're lost or injured in a remote area. The Theory in short: Stay Put. Since they're looking for you, moving around does you no more good (and can actually make you harder to find) than staying in one place - and it wastes energy you may need later.

So I made myself as comfortable as one can do on one of the lovely concrete benches in the parking lot waiting area, and hunkered down. I mused on the good news that it was neither raining, nor particularly cold or hot. I mused on how peculiar some people are who will drive up, stop, look like they're waiting for someone and then leave. I mused on the stupidity of someone who would travel without essential contact information written on paper (a resolution was submitted by this particular committee, and accepted in full by the Board of Directors).

Two hours later, the Advanced Theory of Search was empirically proven, and my sister showed up, full of the obvious questions and relating concerns of trains crashing, etc.

The visit was delightful, and the trip home, uneventful.

The point of writing the above is NOT to grumble and gripe about the lousy state of public transit (or the stupid state of people like me who'll rely on high-tech when low-tech would do the job better and more reliably).

No, the point is that this was a day in the life of a non-driver. As a non-driver, you are:

- At the mercy of transit schedules, whatever they may be.

- At risk of being stranded wherever you are.

- An expert at finding the nearest local watering hole (to bide the time, as appropriate).

- A victim of "Yellow Cab, Inc." - I'll say nothing else here.

- As patient as a librarian working the math-science section.

Am I obsessed with a need for vengeance on the system?Am I an activist seeking to make public transit humane?Am I just another pundit, seeking to make my living trashing public facilities?

No.

What I want to convey here is the sensibility, the understanding, that when someone doesn't drive, the world runs at a slower place. We take our time, and we get there when we do. Meanwhile, if we're savvy, we bring our necessities with us - always.

Hooch? We've got that!

It makes the wait much more endurable.

Criticize as you must. Wait 2 hours at the Richmond Amtrak/BART station. Now criticize again.

That's my point.

This is a very long post - if you've read it from beginning to end, I stand in awe of your persistence/patience. I do think it's done.

Peace,LifeWrecked (AKA Paul S)