i think she really means it…

Life on These City Streets

Friday, August 3rd, 2007 | Random Thoughts

Nate and I are beginning to adapt to life in the city. Lately, we have taken the Metro light rail around town. To get to Pasadena, we simply jump on the Red Line at Wilshire/Western and take it to Union Station. Then we hop on the Gold Line and take it all the way to Lake Ave. in Pasadena. It’s quite convenient and always an experience. We usually have our noses in books we’re reading, but tonight was a bit of an exception.

We met a friend in Long Beach this evening. We took the Red Line to Metro Center/7th St. and then took the Blue Line to Ocean Ave. The train was full of business men and women commuting home on the ride down to Long Beach. The ride back, however, was very different. The moment Nate and I sat down and took out our books to read, a man (possibly homeless as his hair was quite “ratty,” he wore no shirt, and smelled as if he hadn’t showered in a while) stood up and informed us that he smokes “crack, cocaine on this train and the bus driver knows it and the cops know it, too.” He told us he was simply “informing us so that if we wanted to choose another place to sit, that would be fine” with him. We did.

In the next car, we sat in front of a family with a young boy who had a plastic whistle in his mouth. Every time he exhaled, a high pitched sound traveled straight to our ears. Nate was quite enthralled by his book. I, on the other hand, was easily distracted and ended up reading the same paragraph five or six times.

At one of our stops, two young men climbed aboard our train. They were quite enchanted by one another and rather eccentric. What I found especially interesting about them was when another young man came by selling candy bars, they asked an older women (whom they had no noticeable relationship with) for a dollar to buy a Butterfingers bar. With no hesitation, she gave them the dollar, and they enjoyed their chocolate (of course they offered her a bite, but she declined).

Meanwhile, at the Slauson stop, the police caught up with our “crack smoking” friend in the last car, and escorted him off the train with his hands behind his back.

Back to the boy selling the candy bars. I don’t think that making a few bucks was his main order of business for the train ride. I watched him, ever so neatly, roll up a long, skinny, brown “cigarette” (am I really *that* naive?).

At one point along the way, I heard (and felt) a very loud blast hit the side of the car. I didn’t flinch, and no one else did for that matter, but wondered what it could have been. I figured if it was a gun shot, everyone else probably would have sought cover. Me, I just sat there not-so-calmly, nose in my book, with my heart racing. I guess I’m just paranoid.

About two-thirds of the way through our trip, a Jehovah’s Witness came by and offered us some literature. He was a darling little man with a beautiful smile. We kindly declined the booklet.

I was quite fascinated by all of the happenings on the Metro this evening. I guess deep down, I’m still a sheltered young girl from a small Inland Empire town. I do want to get out with “the people” of our city, but how do I keep conscious of my surroundings without letting my unconscious “stereotypes” prevent me from living a new experience?

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