Trains and the City (04.06.00)
Hah, I say, hah. I preach of my lack of caring whether I make this train or the next one, but there I was running down the block to make the 6 o'clock train. I don't run, not at all, and yet. Lunchbox in one hand, coat and computer in the other, there I went, running down the streets of San Francisco.
I wasn't the only one.
We all made the 6 o'clock, in part because it was late -- it was only just unloading when I got to the station at two minutes to six. So I had a minute to stand and catch my breath -- though I wasn't really winded, hadn't run enough for that -- and be amused at the herds of people waiting to crowd through the doors. A tall black guy said, "Excuse me, sweetie," and scootched by me.
I heard an impatient voice or two in the crowd, but mostly people had tolerant smiles and quiet chuckles to see us all like herds of cattle waiting to go to the slaughter. A guy next to me with pizza sauce on his nose half smiled at me, and a short woman with Indian -- India-Indian -- ancestry had a whole smile for me. She had freshly-dyed dark red hair that gleamed in the sunlight.
I came up the stairs in the train, trying to see if there was a seat, and the guy in front of me lifted one finger to tell me there was one left. I came down the aisle and said thanks; he said "You're welcome," in a very deep voice. I listened to him on the hpone for a minute, and wonder where he's from: he sounds like he's lost almost all of an accent, maybe Australian. Maybe.
CHI took us out to lunch today as a going-away lunch for Meredith, my predecessor. God, it was beautiful. Yeah, yeah: I'm in California now, and everyone knows it never rains in California. But I still haven't gotten used to getting up every day and going out into sunshine, unrelenting sunshine, and I don't often go outside into the City during work hours. I should, just to walk: it's bright and pretty and the wind keeps it from being too hot. My coworkers, mind you, think that the wind makes it cold. 55 degrees and windy isn't all that warm, I admit. At least I overcame my testosterone problem and brought a coat today: I've been stubborning out the chill when, in Alaska, I'd have worn a coat, because now I'm in California and I have to prove to five million total strangers that Alaskans are Tough. Part of me feels like wearig a coat -- even a blazer, which is all I need -- is wimping out.
There's a park not very far from where I work, South Park, which is this little splash of green with a playground in it, sort of on what feels like the south end of San Francisco, even though I know San Francisco keeps right on going south for quite a ways. I got a sunburn during lunch there, the other day -- I missed about a square inch of skin on my forehead between my widow's peak and the opposite hairline, but despite that minor flaw it was fantastic. There were quite probably hundreds of people in this tiny park, lunching in business suits and sunglasses, bent over tables and papers in the sunshine. We talked about work, but didn't bring it outside with us. It's a bizarre culture difference. It's too cold or too buggy in Alaska to bring your paperwork outside with you. Talk about little things.
Maybe I don't really have any city story to talk about today. It just seemed so funny, running Fourth, to catch the train. It's a thing people do in movies, not in real life.