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I pride myself on getting to my job not on time. I usually arrive no less than 30 minutes early. Working as a chef in one of San Diego's finest advanced learning institutions pretty much requires that. Who likes to rush around at the last minute like a chicken with no head? Not me. Now, I live in Otay Mesa and the usual commute takes anywhere from 1 hour, 45 minutes to 2 hours. Okay, I am resigned to my fate. 2 hours and 30 minutes early, I walk out my front door. No big deal. My awesome Sennheiser HD 202 headphones are the best you can get for what they cost. I plug in to my nano or my walkman. ( generation 3? didn't have a radio) Music, NPR, the DSC its all there to make the commute bearable. And the floor show is free! Anyone who rides the trolley has a daily report to submit. Usually starts like this; " Good God, you'll never believe what happened on the trolley today...." So you get used to it and simply trudge on through the proverbial muck. Thats what hard working people do. Those amazing and resilient people that stand in line up to 2 hours to cross the border and then begin their own oddysey deserve better. I board at the Iris station after a brief medicating walk. Everyday the State Prison and the local Detention facility releases their prisoners at that same station. The jail releases arrive squeezed into a taxi cab. Three doors open and out they come. Wrinkled clothing, skin usually pale as alabaster and plastic bags containing all their belongings. The State Parolees arrive in a big white van. If their loved ones sent them clothes you could never tell they just were released from prison. However such is not usually the case. When those van doors are opened by the CDC orificer, out come these poor cats clinging to their belongings clad in khaki pull on trousers a thin white t-shirt and black slip ons cover their feet. If you look closely when the trolley goes through downtown, you'll notice that some homeless people are running around clad in the same atire. Do the math. To the meat! (of the story that is!) Due to the weekend construction on the blue line it now takes me 3 and a half hours to get to work WITHOUT my 30 minute cushion. Now do the math. To quote a classic literary figure from well respected newspapers around the country, " Ack!" --Bill the Cat
I pride myself on getting to my job not on time. I usually arrive no less than 30 minutes early. Working as a chef in one of San Diego's finest advanced learning institutions pretty much requires that. Who likes to rush around at the last minute like a chicken with no head? Not me. Now, I live in Otay Mesa and the usual commute takes anywhere from 1 hour, 45 minutes to 2 hours. Okay, I am resigned to my fate. 2 hours and 30 minutes early, I walk out my front door. No big deal. My awesome Sennheiser HD 202 headphones are the best you can get for what they cost. I plug in to my nano or my walkman. ( generation 3? didn't have a radio) Music, NPR, the DSC its all there to make the commute bearable. And the floor show is free! Anyone who rides the trolley has a daily report to submit. Usually starts like this; " Good God, you'll never believe what happened on the trolley today...." So you get used to it and simply trudge on through the proverbial muck. Thats what hard working people do. Those amazing and resilient people that stand in line up to 2 hours to cross the border and then begin their own oddysey deserve better. I board at the Iris station after a brief medicating walk. Everyday the State Prison and the local Detention facility releases their prisoners at that same station. The jail releases arrive squeezed into a taxi cab. Three doors open and out they come. Wrinkled clothing, skin usually pale as alabaster and plastic bags containing all their belongings. The State Parolees arrive in a big white van. If their loved ones sent them clothes you could never tell they just were released from prison. However such is not usually the case. When those van doors are opened by the CDC orificer, out come these poor cats clinging to their belongings clad in khaki pull on trousers a thin white t-shirt and black slip ons cover their feet. If you look closely when the trolley goes through downtown, you'll notice that some homeless people are running around clad in the same atire. Do the math. To the meat! (of the story that is!) Due to the weekend construction on the blue line it now takes me 3 and a half hours to get to work WITHOUT my 30 minute cushion. Now do the math. To quote a classic literary figure from well respected newspapers around the country, " Ack!" --Bill the Cat