The system’s out of order, and the fire hasn’t even started yet.
“Well, I guess that’s what we get for unplugging for a few hours,” said the businessman, relaxed on his bench outside the shuttered BART train station. “They must have decided to go on strike late last night. My office hasn’t decided what they want me to do about it yet.” He leaned back, no frown on his face as it angled towards the morning sun, his loafers tapping slightly to a beat only he could hear.
Here was a man at peace with the problem. The bag lady down the row to his left looked at him without expression.
In a parallel universe I took them both out for breakfast, heard their stories and watched them fall in unlikely love (Joaquin Phoenix and Susan Sarandon for the movie adaptation?), but I was itching to get to Santa Cruz. The fire and light festival started in eleven hours, and I had plans for lunch, then aspired to a full afternoon helping without getting in the way.
Run back to house to check for alternate route. Bus leaves in three minutes, back at station. Run back, intercept bus partway, disembark downtown Oakland where local TV crews were interviewing commuters standing in line for the replacement buses across the bridge. I chatted in a Scottish accent with the guy next to me in hopes of hooking an interview, but the woman in front of us had boobs.
Boobs trump Scotland, apparently.
Too bad, because I was all ready to give a foreigner’s (sic) view of contemporary American democracy. “What do you think of the strike?” They would ask.
“Well, it’s an essential part of your country, isn’t it? Your Constitution was designed to protect ye from the government, but they’re not really the main threat anymore, are they? Not since Reagan privatized the lot of it. No, it’s the businesses, yer employers that’ve got the axe over yer heads now. The idea was that if ye were abused, ye could vote them out, but you canna vote for a new boss, can ye? So you’ve got the strike, it’s the modern equivalent of the ballot, isn’t it?”
They were right to go with the boobs.
Packed bus creeping across crammed bridge, tankers below, then puking us into an unfamiliar hub, clicking of flats, where frantic employees in florescent vests answered rapid-fire questions and held heavy flashlights in defensive positions, clip board shields. Next transport medium: I didn’t even know San Francisco’s muni train ever went underground.
The uniformed woman with hair extensions and long acrylic nails called me “hun” as she directed this poor lost tourist to the train, her coworker joining us in a threesome of “have a nice day” grins and well-wishing.
The guy in front of me was asleep in his Hawaiian shirt, but woke when we passed the baseball park and shuffled to the train station with me. “Sir, I’m afraid you can’t take pictures of the equipment, for security reasons” said the employee who I recognized as the nice one from my last trip’s Good Cop/Bad Cop experience. I’d already given one (mental) speech, so opted against lecturing him about the chronic and egocentric paranoia of the United States, instead going with more smiles and well-wishing.
I reached San Jose an hour and a half behind schedule, but well on my way to catching up on my This American Life and Radiolab podcasts. (David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell are geniuses. Genae.) I was already entertained, educated, and frustrated, and the best part of the day was yet to come…
“Boobs trump Scotland, apparently.”
There’s a revelation I wasn’t expecting.
“The uniformed woman with hair extensions and long acrylic nails called me ‘hun'”…
As in Atilla? 🙂 FWIW, the “hon” moniker is a classic old Baltimore thing…
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🙂 I wasn’t expecting that revelation either. I can only imagine that Scottish boobs would rule the world.
And speaking of ruling the world, I would love it if she meant “hun” in an Attila sort of way (though I’ve always thought of myself more as a Genghis-style conqueror, content to let my vassal states rule themselves). It’s possible she was from Back East I guess, her accent was urban, but I can’t say for sure West/East coast.
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Genghis Khan didn’t have much choice. He was always off on the next sacking expedition, and he needed his entourage to fulfill that quest, so he pretty much had to let the conquered peoples run their own affairs. The Mongols would have been stretched too thin if they’d try to micromanage, much like the Roman Empire during its heyday.
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I looked for a clip I saw on an airplane that went through Eurasian history in something like six minutes, which included a list of way in which the Mongols were always the exception. Quite a remarkable period. Do you think it had more to do with a deliberate procedural method/necessity, or just the personality of the man/people?
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I’m no expert on the history of the Mongol conquests in the late 12th/early 13th Century,but…I’m inclined to go primarily with the procedural dictates with a dash of leadership personality explanation. Necessity really is the mother of invention for an awfully large percentage of human endeavors. To the extent that Genghis was personally responsible I suspect it was largely in the form of his willingness/ability to recognize what was likely to work and running with it.
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I’m definitely no expert either, but in reading some of the (hi)stories of the guy (ex: escaping execution by hiding in a freezing river for hours on end), I am left in clueless awe of the man, but I can imagine him looking at his first conquered city, thinking “That was fun…now what?” It’s easy to imagine him as a non-contemplative sociopath who just liked to ride and kill, but I suspect that alone would be insufficient to create an empire. I get the feeling the tribes of the steppes had produced plenty of the former, but only one (arguably two, since some say his top general, Tsubodai, would have been a great conqueror in his own right if he’d been born at a different time) empire-builder.
Now I want to go as Genghis for Halloween…
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Great post. Am still trying to make up my mind about which was better, the tongue in cheek style or the laterally slanted narrative. But never mind. What really jumped out at me was this line, and I quote:
“In a parallel universe I took them both out for breakfast, heard their stories and watched them fall in unlikely love….”
What would have been the core motivation to think thus, I wonder?
Shakti
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I confess I have no idea what a laterally slanted narrative is…please tell me! The two at the station seemed so opposite on an immediate and superficial level, but the movie-watcher in me can imagine an irregular day like that serving as the bridge that connects them, and we all leave the theater inspired by our shared humanity. (I hope that reads in the tone I intend it, somewhere between naive and cynical, close to neither extreme.)
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I would also like to find out more about laterally slanted narratives. Not to disrespect your original post, VU (after all it was itself laterally slanted), but I could probably learn to slant my narratives with much more ease than I could grow Scottish boobs, and I am eager to learn!
This comment is not sarcastic, by the way, I’ve been told it’s hard to tell.
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🙂 I have the exact same problem with this whole text-based communication thing. I’ll say something and people will ask me if I’m making fun of them. I’m not, I’m just corny. I like the idea of playing with narrative styles…I just hope I don’t get off-track and grow slanted boobs.
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Oh god, here in Montreal public transport strikes are extremely common. Not only that but the metros are down more than half the time.
Anyways, really liked your posted! 🙂
http://katieraspberry.wordpress.com/
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Hello Montreal! I haven’t made it there yet, but when I do, I’ll make sure to bring my walking shoes, just in case 😉
But hey, at least you have a metro. 🙂 I heard that SF’s BART system is the 5th largest of its kind in the US…and it’s not all that large.
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Excellent Blog.. I like your way to write.. I bookmark your blog link. Keep update…
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Thank you, I’m glad you like it, and good luck with your CEO position!
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Love this! You took one of the most bum-numbingly awful aspects of life — public transportation — and made it funny and interesting. Thank you!
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And thank you for your use of the adverb “bum-numbingly”! I will do my best to use that as many times as possible over the next week. I think I have a certain advantage in the pursuit of positive commuting attitude because I don’t actually have to do it very often. I remember my days of commuter traffic…I swore a lot more in those days…and danced in my seat (I was never sure which was more likely to incur road rage in others).
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This was great! You made this topic so interesting and entertaining. Love your quotes too!
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Thank you, I’m very glad you liked it! I liked your blog too (though now I have that Gary Jules song stuck in my head 😉
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Reblogged this on We are Anonymous.
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Muchas gracias, he leido su pagina con mucho interes. Anonymous… Solo espero que no te enojes nunca conmigo!
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No es lo nuestro Hermano, nosotros solo divulgamos conocimiento y lo compartimos, somos respetuosos de la voluntad de los pueblos. Es para nosotros un Honor que hayas visitado este blog regresa, cuando lo desees y, si tienes alguna pregunta o inquietud solo, haznoslo saber. Apreciamos el gesto. Saludos ! de la Familia Anonymous 😃👍
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Todo esto me parace muy importante, lo de compartir conocimiento, y seguro que visitare su blog en adelante… (Uy, hace ya demasiado tiempo que no hablo este idioma, y tengo tanto miedo de haberlo olvidado ya bastante…disculpes por mis errores!)
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You, speak English, Germany, Italian? No problem. Greetings Brother 😃👍
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Hey… AWESOME ! ! Great work 😃👍. Greetings ! !
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This is awesome, I recommend it.
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Thanks very much for sharing ! ! Greetings 😃👍👍
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Very nice post. I shall be reading more of your writings. Excellent!
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Thank you, and likewise for your site. I thought the call center operator was the perfect surprise ending that connected your post about the bridge/GWR to span from 150 years ago to today. Excellent!
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Reblogged this on Insanalinsan's Blog.
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Thank you! Great list of posts you have there.
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