MetroRiderLA

[tags] sunset, 2, nightlife, los angeles [/tags]

Credit: astrangegirl via flickr

Who says u can’t go out in Hollywood without late night train service… well I do for one and just about everyone else does too. And though I know this is not technically true for of course the busses run late enough to do so, I’ve just been too lazy to deal with late (late) night bus service and have just stayed closer to downtown for my partying “needs.”

Well last night that idea got dashed away with a wonderful little bit of moonlighting with the late night 2. Now I say late night specifically for I don’t believe its technically owl service on that line (maybe all?) till after 2am. But whatever its specific designation, it worked out amazing last night.
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[tags]metroriderla, bus stop[/tags]

Hint: This photo was taken March 6, 2007 at the northwest corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street.

Photo courtesy of ballookey via Flickr.

I don’t feel so good.

You see, today, for the first time in months, I drove. A car. Do I feel bad because I went against the ideals of the “public transit lifestyle” by driving a car today? No. Do I feel bad because transit-dependent people in this city can’t experience the freedom of being behind the wheel of their own personal transportation device? Hell no. I feel bad for one reason and one reason only: I drove.

And driving, in this city at least, SUCKS.

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This week Transit TV seems to have hired some MTV marketing genius’ cuz it’s all about sex baby. Read on for some risque stuff involving hot tubs, Christie Brinkley and Don Cheetle, but first…

P. Allen Smith tells us to cut all the mushrooms off downed trees before you lean them against your house or any other building. Then use the mushrooms to fill any left over strawberry boxes you might have lying around. He also tells us that picking flower bulbs is like picking cantaloupe at the market, ask a foreigner.

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On a typical weekday after work I cross Pico ready to twist hood ornaments off twitchy black Mercedes’ that radiate waves of bluetooth or have my knees broken by blood-thirsty white delivery vans. So far I’ve been been lucky and always make it across to the bus stop unscathed. Happy to have working knees I breathe in some fresh nitrogen-laden golf course air and do some jumps on the chain link fence as I wait for the Big Blue Bus #7 eastbound to the Rimpau Terminal. This past Tuesday I had the most pleasant of surprises.
bus slows.
bus stops.
I enter.
flash EZ pass.
jaw drops as I’m suddenly overcome with a wave of relaxation. I feel like I’ve just stepped into a private intergalactic shuttle headed for the safety of my home planet. I’m bathed in perfectly tinted blue light. All of the usual hideous disinfectant-grade flourescent lights in the front 2/3 of the bus have been internally gelled the trademark Santa Monica blue. Big Blue Bus is right! Though it doesn’t take long for pessimist side to kick in and ask “why the hell aren’t all the buses like this?”.
And that’s where it stands, why not? WHY NOT!?

Sometimes naughty bus riders get yelled at.
Crying baby image courtesy of dawnhops via Flickr.
Remixed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 License.

Today I discovered that riding a Metro bus can make you feel 20 years younger.

How can riding on a rickety, dirty, scrachiti-covered bus make a 26-year-old man feel like a 6-year-old boy you ask? The answer is quite simple:

When a Metro bus driver scolds you like a child, it’s easy to feel emotions you haven’t felt since kindergarten.

The whole sad stowy after the jump…
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