Long Day's Journey Into Plight. Stephen Dare Wrassles the Transit System.

[stephendare]

Well there are a few things that I feel I should preface this next launch of essays.

First, there are a few factors which went into the decision to prolong this experiment in transit, and a few things that I have discovered about using transit in general.

Im healthier, if more frustrated.

Over the past 40 days or so, I have lost about 26 pounds.  This is directly a result of depending on transit for transportation.   Having to walk a few blocks (at least) in order to make it to the various stops and stations at least 8 times a day has really increased the amount of general activity.   Of course additionally having to walk up to a mile or more in order to get to some of the harder to reach destinations increased that even more.

So, a remarkable amount of weight loss has ensued. (which obviously I can well afford to say goodbye to)

And not just that but all of the other benefits that go along with it.

Also I have found that I have a much better appreciation of the city itself.  As a passenger on the bus you really get to pay attention to the unique beauty of each side of town.  The lushness of the west and northsides, the manicured elegance of the southside, the rugged natural sandiness of the beaches and the classic grungy beauty of the historic district.

Being able to read or sketch or simply chat with the other passengers has been a real treat actually, and in the process Ive picked up quite a bit of gossip from the central area, art chatter on the southside, and a tremendous amount of sheerly criminal advice that while one hopes will be forever useless, one never knows when having insight into criminal process might come in extremely handy.

Also to be frank, while it is possible to get some basic ideas and opinions of the overall system, it is not possible to even plumb the middle regions of the beer barrel on only thirty days.

The first month was however enough to convince one that the entire machine needs to be replaced and revamped.   It doesnt serve the needs of the people nor does it conduce itself to easy or rapid transit.

There are projected changes.  They are supposed to take place at the end of this month.  Beginning on the 25th in fact.   I am going to see and chronicle this process.   And I am going to continue on past this month through the next one.

It seems as though the principles of mass transit are not that elusive.
Adequate intelligent coverage that connects people to all possible destination.
Customer service that informs and aids people to easily utilize the system in comfort and safety.
Sufficient hours of service and fequency that it provides a real alternative to automobile travel.

How to translate these goals into reality?

As I have found, this is a definitely healthier lifestyle.   I know that its better for the world around me.  And a working transit system would radically change our city for the better.

But it cannot be a simple spiritual and health committment.  It also has to serve a real function for all of those fit and busy people who have other more realistic priorities.

[Doctor_K]

I know that its better for the world around me.

While the buses you ride on get 3 and 4 miles to the gallon, and pollute far worse than your car. 

One more reason for light-, commuter-, and mono-rail over buses.  Or at the very least, hybrid- and alternative-fuel buses over the dirty diesels. 

I know, I know... baby steps. 

[stephendare]

I know that its better for the world around me.

While the buses you ride on get 3 and 4 miles to the gallon, and pollute far worse than your car. 

One more reason for light-, commuter-, and mono-rail over buses.  Or at the very least, hybrid- and alternative-fuel buses over the dirty diesels. 

I know, I know... baby steps. 

lol.  baby steps indeed.

I would prefer to see electric trolleys as well.

But 1 bus pollutes far less than 50-60 cars and uses way less space and fuel.

Not that there are always 50 to 60 people per bus, due to the problems which I have been repeatedly encountering.   

[Doctor_K]

Here's a question I have for you, Stephen:

Did you notice particular times and/or routes that were consistently 'more full' than others?  It seems that every time I see a bus (at night, obviously, when you can see *in* to them), they're virtually or literally empty.

[stephendare]

Its more locations than times, Dr. K.

Most people notice the buses at night Downtown, when the buses are actually at the end and beginning of their runs.

Because downtown serves as the hub for all trips.

So say you live in san marco and are going to the avenues mall.  If there are twenty people on their way to the Avenues and 10 people going to their work along the way, and another 20 leaving lakewood to get to other destinations, NONE of those people will be on the bus anywhere in the downtown area.  Same with the return trip.

The only people who are on the buses downtown from the outlying districts are people who are transferring at the FCCJ station.  And because our JTA doesnt allow free transfers, many people simply opt not to take bus travel if it requires a transfer.

If you were downtown, you would totally be under the impression that no one rides the bus system at all.

That said, the hours just before work and just after the workday are usually the 'busiest' for the buses.   Definitely for the Skyway.

Again this has a lot to do with the lack of planning that connects people with actual destinations.

[rjp2008]

Lost 26 lbs - good for you.

[Ocklawaha]

The new Doncar SUV, (Coming to a showroom near you) is the only vehicle to equal a JTA bus in economy.

A new "community bus" such as JTA's planned local hub bus, like the 35 foot/34 passenger Gilligs get 224 Passenger-miles-per-gallon. Nothing to sneeze at. In fact the heavier your auto the more MPG you would have to get to equal this... For example a full size GM sedan would have to get about 350 MPG to do what JTA can do with one bus.

Now y'all know me as the "TROLLEY MONSTER" but you know what? I cut my teeth at TRAILWAYS! VIVA THE MOTOR COACH!


New Silver Eagle 15.

BTW, a Trailways, Eagle 10, seating 43 passengers in at LEAST airline comfort (most Eagles, sold today under the SILVER EAGLE name, go to Hollywood stars as highway PV's) with a Detroit 350 HP engine, would have no problem getting 9 MPG, fully loaded with passengers and baggage. ...And for those longer commuter runs we need? Oh yes, JTA, I AM IN TOUCH, and trying to get us an Silver Eagle 15 demo here, to show you. Anyone want to drive back from Texas with me?

OCKLAWAHA

[stephendare]

Day 5 of the Second Thirty Days.  Or Day 39 of the whole experiment.
I Was Duly Warned

Today's Mission.

To travel one of the remaining untravelled routes for the purpose of visiting the Westside Equestrian Center.

The Equestrian Center, one of the cooler projects of the Better Jacksonville Plan is 35 million dollars of awesomeness located off of Normandy on the Westside.  Not only are there tremendous facilities for all things equestrian but its also a great place for horses.

Not that there are unliscensed horses simply running amuck normally, because there arent.  There are however stables and showgrounds for the massive shows that happen there.  Otherwise one can simply choke on the dust and hay while wandering around the deserted facility.

But thankfully, this is not the only attraction to the Equestrian Center.  There is also a freaking brilliant aquatic center with diving boards, etc.  Its massive.  It sprawls.  There are bleachers, and the pool itself is brobdignagian.  There are showers and lockers and lifeguards and all in all it is one of the most pleasant ways to spend an afternoon for free in the city.

Outside the Aquatic Center there are baseball diamonds, archery ranges and all manner of coolish ways to divert yourself.

It is one of the largest public investments in outdoor recreation in the cities history.

So surely there would be easy access by the municipal center via public transit.

Well the early signs seemed to point to the opposite.

It all began when I called JTA customer information.  630-3100.

Readers of this column are already aware that this is the only part of JTA that is in working order.  The only reliably quality run service that is consistently provided and unfailingly knowledgeable are these few stalwarts who man the phones at the Service Center.

Glenda sounded skeptical in the extreme of my chances of being able to make it to the Equestrian Center or the Elysian waters of its indoor Pool.

"Honey, it doesnt really take you very near there"  she told me.  "That it, the only bus line that we have that goes out there......You would have to get off at the Gym or FCCJ....."

Of course being a Beaches Native and a core city inhabitant, referencing either the 'gym' or 'cecil campus fccj' is about as useful as referencing the Seattle KFC or the Rug Sales Center in Downtown Morocco.  One assumes that they must be vaguely near, but other than that....nothing.

"Hmm. The Cecil Campus FCCJ"  I led.

"Well thats at LEAST a mile or so from the Equestrian Center.  It would be quite a walk"  She said, obviously not trusting my iron sinews or steely resolve to walk a mere mile or so

Hmmm, I returned non commitally, while trying to envision a mile or so in my head.

"I'm sorry we can't help you."  she said finally.

I realized that I was wasting her time with my invisible visualizing and imagineering.

"Well what bus do I have to take and when does it leave?"  I asked quickly.

She sounded skeptical but provided me the information.

Its B-6 and lets see.....it leaves at 10:45 and then it leaves every hour from Rosa Parks Station. 

I thanked her and hung up.

Little did I know that I would replay this little scene in my head again and again, ruefully realizing that I had missed the turning point in this moment.

I packed a little bag with shower accoutrements and towel, swim trunks and a change of clothes and embarked.

[stephendare]

The Journey Begins

On the Bus, B-6 (I have no freaking idea what the "B" refers to in this case)

I grabbed a schedule for the return trip and settled in for the ride.

Whatever planning might be ongoing within the bowels of the Jacksonville Transportation authority, every single thing that might be done wrong apparently got together and conspired to make of the B-6 route a medley of bad ideas as would make the dark gods of beaurocratic Chaos proud.

First of all, the route is too long.

Way too long.

Freakishly way too long.  As in time.

For instance, starting at the Greyhound Bus station at 11 in the morning one can depart from Jacksonville to Gainesville.

The JTA Passenger (myself in this instance) leaving the Rosa Parks Station just blocks away departs for the Westside at 10:45.

The Greyhound Passenger will arrive in Gainesville before the JTA passenger makes it to the corner of Normandy and New World Avenue.

I sat on the bus as we wormed our way through the uninhabited streets of downtown and then meandered a labyrinthian route through Riverside.

Apparently this route was primarily designed to service the tragically unmedicated chapter of the Red Hats Society, as we drove a residential loop de loop through the historic neighborhood and picked up the mutually hostile members of a now extant bridge society who segregated themselves into chatty little groups and began badmouthing each other.

I sat with a group of african american women in the front who filled me in on the grisly details of the ancient animosities at play.

We all hushed as a final group of the old bandercoots boarded and sat primly next to us.

I made the fatal mistake of making eye contact and smiling.

For the next 25 minutes I was nailed into the coffin of a conversation about the bus scheduler's suspected parentage as told from the point of view of an especially bitter old magnolia.  Her lemony observations, while I heartily agreed with every one of them, were accompanied with dark observations about the class of people who not only no longer knew their rightful place in the world, but also rode the buses with impunity and a lamentable lack of social restraints, the type of which she hinted at without ever clearly describing.

The women I had begun the ride with kept rolling their eyes and looking towards heaven.

Only the good die young, remarked one of them.

The little old lady filling me in on the failings of the modern world in general and the JTA bus planner in specific pretended not to have heard.

As we got to Roosevelt Boulevard all of the white haired Cold Warriors of the Bridge Club disembarked the bus, and I was left not only feeling exhausted but keenly aware that it had already been an hour of transit.

Still we plunged on. 

The Bus driver, a tremendously helpful fellow explained the route a bit more.

Apparently the bus didnt go out to the Equestrian Center as a result of the lack of ridership at the furthest edges of the trip.

But that shouldnt surprise anyone, I was advised, as the Bus was useless to any potential customer on the Westside.

Who knew, but apparently Boeing has an active operation out in Cecil Field, and FCCJ has a new aviation campus.  However, none of the employees or students will use the bus because the trip is an hour and a half either way.   No one who works out there wants to spend that much time a day on the bus, and they quickly get a car in order to cut down on the transit time.

I was told about workers at Boeing who lived on the Southside.  They were having to take a 1.5 hour busride downtown, pay a second entrance fee and then ride another hour out to their home in southside.  2 and a half to three hours per day one way on the bus alone.  Obviously if they used JTA for transit both ways, they were spending 6 HOURS A DAY in transit.

Additionally, the driver opined that there would still be more riders on B-6---which is under consideration for being cut altogether---if the JTA at least waited for FCCJ to open its campus.

I asked him why the bus didnt add the Equestrian Center as a stop in order to draw more riders.

"No one has requested that the bus go out there" he responded.

And apparently no one thought of it at JTA.  I realized.

[stephendare]

Part 3.  Mayhem.

The busdriver began to approach the mysterious area of town whose landmarks, The Equestrian Center, The 'Gym" and "FCCJ Cecil Campus" have already been mentioned.

Before we reached any of those destinations, the driver did me the service of letting me out as close as possible.  The return trip, he promised, would be incredibly more distant.

At the corner of 103rd and 'New World' (prophetic in a way) I dismounted the diesel chariot and steeling my scottish resolve stepped sturdily out on my way. I walked from 103rd to Normandy and turned left.

I squinted and tried to make out the entrance to the Equestrian Center, feeling certain that I would be able to make out something in the vague distance.

No luck.

Still, with a cheerfulness borne of incipient weightloss, I sojourned on.

On the open roads of Normandy I suddenly realized that all of the recent bitter recriminating of bicycle enthusiasts on the blogs was in no way exaggeration or over-hyped.

The highways of Jacksonville, and especially its West Side are traversed by criminal dumbasses, barely one step above murderous swine.

In fact, the city is rife with potential murderers if not murderers in actual deed.

To these barely cognizant beasts careening down the paved byways, the pedestrian is merely a target.  A focus point for abuse and practicing pitching arms.

There are no sidewalks in the new world, nor is there mown grass.  The tall weeds that line the street are writhing with scaly life and flying grasshoppers.  There are bodacious sandspurs growing Judean scale thorns amidst reptilian and insectile congregations.  One is forced to stick close to the highway, especially a native born floridian keenly aware that mere penny loafers are not sufficient armor against snake bites.

That was when some group of anonymous blaggards struck me unaware.  I was suddenly stung with multiple sharp welting objects that covered the back of my legs.

As the SUV responsible sped by I realized that they had thrown a handful of pennies.

Bastards.   What the hell.   Why do something so intrinsically hostile and hurtful.   No sooner had these thoughts crossed my mind than a Wendy's cup narrowly missed me as it was flung by a passing vehicle.

I made my way into the brush.

About 500 feet into realizing that I had unwittingly stepped into the playing fields of The Most Dangerous Game I caught site of a modern looking building on vast acreage through the pine woods that line Normandy.

The Equestrian Center?  I wondered?   I could see the building by merit of an abandoned road over which dirt and spotty grass was beginning to spread cover and thought well what the hell, its better than walking the highway with these thermonuclear dumbasses in utility vehicles zooming by.

I trod down to the complex.

Once there I was informed by a security guard that I had arrived at FCCJ Cecil Campus.

I asked how best to get to the Equestrian Center, and he gave me excellent driving directions despite having watched me walk the entire distance from the highway.

I asked the quickest way to walk there, noticing that there was a back road that led in the correct direction.   He told me I would have to trek back to the highway.   

'What about that road?'  I asked, gesturing towards the aforementioned path.

'Thats the Feds', he said.   'They don't want you out there.'

I wondered exactly how top secret anyplace might be, nestled between a community college and a swim center, but I refrained from asking.   The security guard was a dried out bit of beef jerky, and I know from long experience with this type that one might as well plead with a boiled egg to display sharper wit.

I plodded back down the abandoned roadway.

Just before I got there, I noticed a trail in the woods which appeared to run parallel to Normandy.  Better yet, it was paved.

Surely this is preferable to walking amongst the driving assmonkeys of Normandy, I decided.

[stephendare]

In Which the Innocent Commuter is Bloodthirstily Attacked by Wild Beasts.

The trail was just the ticket.

At least at first.

If I was going to have to hoof it a mile or more, it might as well be within the protected confines of this nice and additionally shady woodsland trail.---as long as it didnt divert too far from Normandy.

After a football field or so, the path suddenly turned to the right----directly in the opposite direction of the highway.  I could see that it would turn again in the correct direction and decided to go ahead and risk it rather than  retrace every last damnable step back to the FCCJ pathway.

Butterflies were getting thick on the ground and the mottled sunlight was streaming down in gorgeous patterns over the trail and the ground around.

The 'trail' I began to surmise had once been the military roads for the old base and seemed to be laid out in a more or less gridlike pattern---despite the otherwise complete conquest by nature it was at least predictable.  I relaxed a little.

As I turned a corner, by now fairly distant from the highway, suddenly in a clearing I saw it.

A beautiful dappled fawn.  I suppose it was a fawn.  It wasnt a full grown deer at any rate.

Suddenly the deer saw me.  Wildly mistaking my situation for a disney film, I held out my hand and made clucking noises, fondly believing that this would charm the young deer to approach and let me pet it.  Perhaps we would become friends, and I would come back out to these very woods.  We would grow old together, although of course I would eventually outlive the poor beast.  I would sadly plant beautiful flowers in that distant time, reminiscing over all our many quiet times in the woods together.

As soon as I made the first clucking noise, the young deer panicked and bolted with great desperation. 

Dismayed, I heard crashing noise coming from behind me.

I turned to see another young deer charging directly towards me.

As I took it in, I realized that this new deer was not alone.

There were a few others, wildly bolting in my direction.

Then I noticed a monstrously angry looking buck with horns.

His head was lowered as he ran straight at me, his intention to jab those horns directly into my vital organs crystal clear and getting clearer with every nanosecond.

Im not a hundred percent certian, but Im pretty sure I screamed like a bitch and began hauling panicked ass.

[pwhitford]

Congratulations!  You are the first person since grammar school to make soda come shooting out my nose.

[jbm32206]

Wildly mistaking my situation for a disney film, I held out my hand and made clucking noises, fondly believing that this would charm the young deer to approach and let me pet it.  Perhaps we would become friends, and I would come back out to these very woods.  We would grow old together, although of course I would eventually outlive the poor beast.  I would sadly plant beautiful flowers in that distant time, reminiscing over all our many quiet times in the woods together.

As soon as I made the first clucking noise, the young deer panicked and bolted with great desperation.

Dismayed, I heard crashing noise coming from behind me. I turned to see another young deer charging directly towards me. As I took it in, I realized that this new deer was not alone. There were a few others, wildly bolting in my direction.

Then I noticed a monstrously angry looking buck with horns.His head was lowered as he ran straight at me, his intention to jab those horns directly into my vital organs crystal clear and getting clearer with every nanosecond.

Im not a hundred percent certian, but Im pretty sure I screamed like a bitch and began hauling panicked ass.

Stephen, this is the funniest thing I've read in a long time...once I cleaned off my monitor (from spitting my drink all over it) I had this image that just kept me laughing and I'm sure my neighbors wondered what the hell was going on...thanks, you made my day!

[stephendare]

The Deadly Deer

I don't know how long I ran before I realized that my intestines and lower colon were going to remain safe within my body, but breathing hard enough to qualify as actually gasping for the very breath of life, I paused, resting with my hands on my knees, trying to keep alert for any renewal of the bloodthirsty attack by the feral deer pack.

It took me a moment to listen for the traffic of Normandy.  (assclowns, I ruminated bitterly, they were after all, the sole reason I had wandered into hostile deer territory.)

I oriented myself appropriately and began hiking along in what I was certain was the correct direction.

As I regained breath I got into better spirits and even had time to chuckle a little. 

I realized that I had probably panicked without much justification.   I had probably scared the buck as much as he scared me.....Ok probably not, since I don't think that Bucks were subject to embarrassing screaming.

What were the chances of that having happened, after all?

I had no idea that there were really even deer here in Duval County.  I guess I had always assumed that 'Deerwood' was simply the fanciful creation of some yuppified developer---like the perniciously monikered "Wolf Timber"-----I mean certainly no one believes that there are any timber wolves gallivanting loose here in Jacksonville.

I realized that I had been walking without paying attention for a few minutes while I relived the electrifying deer encounter, when I turned a corner to correct my path again only to discover that the deer and I were destined for further mutually upsetting interaction.

For whatever reasons, the gods that drive the paths of panicked deer packs and wildly off course journalists saw fit to place both on a collision course once again.

Still running together, with the younger deer in the lead, I simultaneously heard and saw the murderous creatures coming straight for me.

The male deer caught sight of me, and visibly communicated that I was an unwelcome sight indeed.

His eyes filled with martial hatred and I don't know if these horrible creatures are supposed to do this, but I was convinced he growled and began galloping towards me again.  There was absolutely no sign whatsoever of fear, nor any indication that the Deer intended anything other than direct conflict.

"This cannot POSSIBLY be happening again!"  I thought, this time determined to keep my cool.

With hellfire in it's eyes in plunged toward me and I decided that I had indeed reacted intelligently the first time.

I broke and ran as fast as I could, I turned and saw that it had stopped, but was watching me intently.

I stopped as well.   Maybe we could agree to disagree after all and just go our seperate but peaceful ways.

The buck leaped forward and I turned and recommenced the hauling of my ass in earnest.

I ran behind a tree, thinking that it was unwise to have no barrier but thin air between those deadly horns and my tender posterior.

I looked back and the deer had once again stopped, watching me.

When it realized that I was stopped too long, it reared a little and started chasing me again.

I had no choice but to show the better part of valor.

I ran like hell.  I ran zig zigs, I circled bushes, I looked wildly for something to climb.

The deer was playing me like a violin I now realize.

Every time I slowed my flight, the bastard commenced hostilities.

Finally, having been run as ragged as Falstaff, I finally burst into a clearing that contained a baseball diamond surrounded by a huge chain link fence.

I ran along the fence until I found an opening and slipped onto the grounds of the Equestrian Center.

The deer lingered at the edge of the woods, daring me to come back.

It neednt have feared.

[jbm32206]

I had probably scared the buck as much as he scared me.....Ok probably not, since I don't think that Bucks were subject to embarrassing screaming.

What were the chances of that having happened, after all?

Stephen...you're killing me! You really do have a flare for descriptive writing!