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I must have
the WORST luck with mass transportation. I think this is one reason I love cars so much. They give you freedom and control. Guess where I am? In LA! Guess where I'm supposed to be? San Diego is the correct answer to this question. Why am I in LA? Because of The Fog (every day, fuckin' fog everywhere, as Eddie Izzard might say). The Fog forced us to land in LA and I am now waiting here to be picked up by Angel, who is friggin' awesome.
I don't think I could count the number of times I have had massive travel hiccups or delays using mass transportation on (ooo, security officer on a segway...) my digits unless I included toes. Even then, I'm not so sure I would make it.
They had buses for us, but there were not enough for the 5 planeloads of people that needed to head South. They were waiting for more (hopefully to arrive in an hour and a half) when I decided to take Angel up on her offer to come get me. I realized as I was walking toward the International Terminal that I have been in two bus accidents in my life, both in foreign countries where I have lived for a given amount of time. The first was in New Zealand. Our bus was traveling to the North of the South Island, and we were going through some really beautiful hilly land with pine trees everywhere and the sun was shining and the trees were bathed in gold and then we hit a car that was backing out of someone's driveway. Two girls were visiting a farm to get a kitten to take home, and we hit them broadside, like a T with a tiny tiny top line. Amazingly, no one was hurt. Their car was in bad shape, and the front of the bus was in bad shape, too, so much so that they sent another one to take us the rest of the way to our destination.
The other accident happened in Metz. C and I were taking the bus home from teaching at Montigny, and the bus was stopped at a stop. As people were boarding, a woman looked at the bus, and then at her car which was parked right next to us. She looked back, and then went to open her door to get something out of her car. At that moment, the bus decided it was time to move. I don't know whose fault it was, probably both of them were to blame. The bus driver did not check carefully enough, and the woman made the poor decision to prop her door open against the bus which was making a brief stop. The door was nearly ripped off her car, and the bus had a scratch all along the right side.
There was also that time when Court and Perrin and I went to New York on the Chinatown bus, and it overheated and bottle after bottle of the passengers' water was used to try and make the bus functional again.
I don't think I like buses...
To be continued, perhaps, later.
I don't think I could count the number of times I have had massive travel hiccups or delays using mass transportation on (ooo, security officer on a segway...) my digits unless I included toes. Even then, I'm not so sure I would make it.
They had buses for us, but there were not enough for the 5 planeloads of people that needed to head South. They were waiting for more (hopefully to arrive in an hour and a half) when I decided to take Angel up on her offer to come get me. I realized as I was walking toward the International Terminal that I have been in two bus accidents in my life, both in foreign countries where I have lived for a given amount of time. The first was in New Zealand. Our bus was traveling to the North of the South Island, and we were going through some really beautiful hilly land with pine trees everywhere and the sun was shining and the trees were bathed in gold and then we hit a car that was backing out of someone's driveway. Two girls were visiting a farm to get a kitten to take home, and we hit them broadside, like a T with a tiny tiny top line. Amazingly, no one was hurt. Their car was in bad shape, and the front of the bus was in bad shape, too, so much so that they sent another one to take us the rest of the way to our destination.
The other accident happened in Metz. C and I were taking the bus home from teaching at Montigny, and the bus was stopped at a stop. As people were boarding, a woman looked at the bus, and then at her car which was parked right next to us. She looked back, and then went to open her door to get something out of her car. At that moment, the bus decided it was time to move. I don't know whose fault it was, probably both of them were to blame. The bus driver did not check carefully enough, and the woman made the poor decision to prop her door open against the bus which was making a brief stop. The door was nearly ripped off her car, and the bus had a scratch all along the right side.
There was also that time when Court and Perrin and I went to New York on the Chinatown bus, and it overheated and bottle after bottle of the passengers' water was used to try and make the bus functional again.
I don't think I like buses...
To be continued, perhaps, later.
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