Trains: Still a Boys Club, with Exceptions

Where the boys are; Cindy is the lone woman who drives the train.

The guys who work on the Coaster are generally young, outgoing, friendly, helpful, and, often, funny; I have no complaints. However, they are all men—with one, quite unusual, exception: one of the engineers who drives the train is a woman.

Cindy is probably in her late 40s with long, thick light brown hair that she often wears down. She dresses like the guys, which is a uniform, of sorts: jeans or khakis with a company polo or button-down shirt and work boots. I know who she is because she is very friendly. I haven’t seen any of the other engineers who drive the train, but she comes out and talks to passengers when the train is idle and knows many of them by name. On the train I take in the morning, she is usually the driver, and I often see her talking to other passengers.

As far as I can tell from my brief Internet search, becoming a train engineer is pretty competitive, and, while it doesn’t require a college degree, it requires long years with a company working your way up. In addition, it requires practical experience with mechanical issues, as in, being able to “work on” the train if there are issues. I suppose that is why the job appeals more to men than women; men tend to be more interested in working on cars and motors.

So, my hat is off to Cindy, who is not only friendly, but is kicking feminist butt in the train world.

Living By the Tracks

Remember in Pretty in Pink when Molly Ringwald’s character didn’t want her rich date to take her home because she didn’t want him to see where she lived? Tellingly, she lived “on the wrong side of the tracks.” Which has become a metaphor for the “bad” part of town, but is also a true characteristic of poor neighborhoods: they are often next to railroad tracks.

San Diego isn’t quite like that, but, judging by the number of places where my friends or I have lived that I can actually see from the train, it is true that you can find cheaper rent in this area if you can hear the train horn or intersection warning bells.

I noticed this truism one morning while on the train when I realized that I could see the apartment complex where a good friend of mine lived when we were all in our early 20s. A cute little four-unit complex that is probably 100 yards from the train tracks. A few days later, I realized that I could also see the former apartment of two other friends who lived just as close to the tracks, plus on an intersection with warning bells. This got me thinking and watching, and I realized that I could see the former apartments of two additional friends, plus my former residence, from the train.

I thought this quite odd at first, since San Diego County doesn’t have an abundance of railroad tracks. It took me a few days to put it all together. Not only are these places close to the tracks, they are close enough that I can actually see them from the train. I also remembered that when I lived in my rented condo in Leucadia, I could hear the train and warning bells and had to turn up the TV or pause telephone conversations until the train went by – it was that close and that loud.

While all places near the tracks are by no means cheap (the train goes through some pricey real estate in Carlsbad, Encinitas, Solana Beach, and Del Mar), by my unscientific observations, cheaper rent can be found if you are in eyeshot of the train tracks. And for those of us who were just starting out and wanting to live by the beach, track-side apartments were our only option.

The Empty Desk

A cubicle by a window is a prime spot.

When it comes to prime office space, nothing is sacred. When the announcement was made that the guy in the cubicle next to me was no longer going to work in this office, the “drive-bys” began. People at first just walked by his spot to see if it was any good. By a window; check. Quiet part of the office; check. Relatively private; check. People asked me questions about the temperature near the window: Does it get too hot with the sun coming in? And about the glare: Do the shades work to block the glare? And the foot traffic: Do a lot of people walk by here? I was amazed by the number of inquiries.

Then the pilfering started. First it was one or two guys who have cubicles near us who needed a stapler or some pens. Next people started taking bigger stuff like books, magazine racks, and the mouse pad. Finally, when most of the good stuff was gone, people settled for what was left, like push-pins and a note pad. The funny thing is, we can get any of this stuff in the supply room. I’m not sure what the appeal was of taking his things. The thrill of being caught? The feeling that the grass is always greener? Maybe just an excuse to check out the space? Whatever the reason, his cubicle is now almost completely bare.

I am no innocent bystander in all of this. After all, whoever takes his spot will be sitting next to me. I will be able to hear all of his/her phone conversations and casual office discussions. I will find out things about his/her personal life, and even (as with the previous guy), bank account numbers and schedules for doctor’s appointments. My stake is so high, in fact, that I talked to the HR person and put in a personal request for “someone who is quiet and doesn’t talk on the phone a lot.” I even discouraged a couple potential tenants by telling them that the glare is really bad and the view isn’t that great anyway. The good news for me is that there is some remodeling going on, and many people will be moved around. Until they decide who goes where, the spot next to me will remain unoccupied—and quiet.

Usuals Not Always Usual

The usual commuters on the Coaster are just that, usual. Typical business people who work at UCSD, Qualcomm, or other large employer in the Sorrento Valley area, or who work in downtown San Diego, often for the County of San Diego or a law firm. These people are generally quiet and often read a book or newspaper in the morning or carry on conversations with their commuter friends.

Then there are the not-so-usual usuals. My favorite is the eyeliner/hair woman. I wish I had a picture of her, but I can’t figure out how to take one without being obvious. Her look never waivers; even her clothes are the same, with little variation. She has long, bleach-blond straight hair that is beyond damaged. It is usually back in a low ponytail with a beehive-type thing at the top. She pushes up her hair from the back with a large barrette so she has these high sort-of bangs. She always wears dark eyeliner all around her eyes, giving her a strange 60s/punk look. She wears dark tights (black, brown, or dark green), short flair skirts, and big belts around her waist. Her shirt and skirt are always in the same color family of mustard, dark green, or brown. I can’t figure out what kind of job she has that she would wear such an outfit every day. Hostess? Tour guide? I want to follow her one day and get the scoop.

Another unusual usual looks like a regular guy, but decidedly isn’t. He is a hummer—a pretty loud one. And, he isn’t even wearing headphones; he just hums to himself whatever random tune is in his head. He also clears his throat in a way that sounds like a horse—seriously. He is quite odd, and doesn’t seem to realize that other people exist. He sometimes stands in the aisle while other people are leaving, waiting to take their spot, but totally in their way.

The towel guy is quiet and quite normal, except that he always puts down a salmon-colored towel before sitting down. He carries it in a tote that he has with him. I hope he puts the same side down every time, otherwise, using the towel is kind of pointless.

Look Both Ways

Don't step in front of the train, even if you're in a hurry!

About 5 minutes into my train ride home the other day, the train made an unscheduled stop in the middle of an intersection. And then we waited. And waited. After about 15 minutes, the conductor made an announcement that seemed ominous. In a voice that was obviously upset, he said, slowly, “We will be here … for a while.” Ugg. What does that mean? This doesn’t sound good.

A little while later, the conductor made another announcement, saying we’d be there for at least another 45 minutes. Seriously?! I knew I should have taken the earlier train! He never told us why we were stopped, but it soon became obvious. There were police, ambulance, and firefighter vehicles and personnel all around the train. I could only see a small section of street from my window, but police began arriving to direct cars around the train (which, as I’ve said, was right in the middle of an intersection). It seemed that most of the action was behind me, where the train came from.

I tried to read the paper to help pass the time, but watching the cars and police outside the window was more interesting. After about 45 minutes, there was another announcement. We were going to switch to another train, and so could we all slowly make our way to the front car. Since I was already in the front car, I just made my way downstairs. In about another 5 minutes, a different Coaster train pulled up. We slowly piled out of one car (a BIG step down) and up onto the next train. I went right upstairs and had a good view of the rest of the passengers crossing the tracks to get onto the new train. In about another 10 minutes, we were on our way. Still with no explanation about the delay.

The news the next day revealed that a woman had been hit by the train, and had survived! She was with her brother and they waited for the Trolley to pass, but didn’t notice the Coaster coming on the next set of tracks. It hit her at the legs. On the Coaster a few days later, I overhead one of the engineers say that the woman told him they took a short-cut because they were trying to get home early. So much for that! He also said that this was the first time he’s been on a train that hit someone and the person survived. Two crazy things about that comment: he’s been on a train that hit someone before, and that the rest of the people who were hit had died.

So my typical long day was even longer, but at least I made it home safely!

You Know It's Going to Rain When...

The parking garage at the Oceanside Station.

I can tell it is going to rain when there are less parking spaces available in the parking garage at the train station. The station has both a regular parking lot and a covered garage. The garage is a little farther from the station than the lot, and so is never full when I arrive in the morning. However, when it is raining, or predicted to rain, there are definitely more cars.

When I arrived to the station this morning, there was only one spot left in the section where I usually park, when there are typically at least 10 left. I thought, “What is the deal? Why are there so many cars this morning? Am I late?” After checking the time and realizing that I was right on time, another thought occurred to me, “Maybe it’s supposed to rain.” While on the train, I overheard that it was, indeed, expected to rain that day.

In a previous blog post, I wrote about how we train riders are creatures of habit. We usually ride in the same car, and often in the exact same seat. Parking is no different. Train riders park their cars in the same general area, and in the same spot if they can. I park on the first floor of the garage, next to a barricade (if I can), facing out. I often park next to the same silver BMW. So of course I noticed when there were more cars in the garage than usual, and it totally threw me off my game. Now I had to think, “Where will I park? If I park here, can I get out as quickly? If I park there, will dust from the train get kicked up onto my car?” A lot to consider this early in the morning. But at least I knew one thing for certain: It was going to rain.

What's in a Building?

Side of my building with a Wyland mural.

People who work in “famous” buildings (the Sears Tower, Empire State Building) have some bragging rights, or at least a good conversation starter. I happen to fall into that category, if you consider “Wyland” buildings famous. The office where I work has a huge mural of whales painted on it that covers an entire side of the building. It is one of maybe 100 buildings around the world that feature a Wyland mural.

There are plenty of tall buildings downtown, and my building is small by comparison (seven stories), but it is known none-the-less. Other people will tell you they work in the Wells Fargo building or the Sempra building, but when I say, “the building with the whales on it,” most people know what I’m talking about.

I realized just how “cool” this was when I was on vacation this summer. I was wandering through a Wyland gallery at a popular tourist spot when I stopped in front of a large poster that had small images of all of Wyland’s building murals. The gallery worker sauntered over and explained to me about the buildings. I told him that I knew all about them, since I worked in one of them. He couldn’t believe it. I was so lucky! He helped me locate my building on the poster. “Wow,” he said. “That’s so cool.” “Really?” I thought. I had no idea. It’s kind of like having a hip teenager come up to you and tell you she likes your outfit.

While I rarely think about the whales swimming on the side of my office building, when I do see them (from the train or when I go for a walk to escape my life in a cubicle), I appreciate Wyland’s talent and his commitment to the protection of ocean life. And I think to myself, “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty cool that I work in this building.”

It's a Small World

Current coworkers, former neighbors.

One of the best things about working in an office is getting to know new people. And an even better thing is forming friendships out of these new acquaintances. One of my co-workers has become a particularly good friend, and we have socialized outside of the office on a few occasions. So it came as a surprise to both of us when we found out a pretty amazing fact about the other—we grew up on the same street!

The conversation in the lunchroom one afternoon went like this:

SHANNON: What did you do this weekend?

ME: I saw a play at Moonlight Amphitheatre.

SHANNON: I’ve been to Moonlight before, when I was a kid.

ME: Really? That’s pretty far from where you grew up.

SHANNON: I used to live in Vista.

ME: Really? Where? I grew up in Vista.

SHANNON: Behind the high school.

ME: Off of Goodwin?

SHANNON: Yes, on Gail.

At this point, I seriously almost dropped my lunch as I was taking it out of the microwave.

ME: SERIOUSLY?! I grew up on Gail. What number?

SHANNON: 4XX.

ME: I used to live at 3XX.

Turns out, we grew up across the street from each other, just a few houses apart. We don't remember each other because I moved away when I was 9, and she was pretty young then. She then moved away, too, which is why I thought she had grown up in another city. We have since had many conversations about who we used to play with and how we used to sneak into the high school through the fence of one of our neighbors.

What are the odds? Out of all of the offices downtown, and all of the people in my office, I became friends with a woman who grew up only a few houses from me. So amazing!

When Is Friendly A Little Creepy?

An empty car. Riders usually sit in the same car and same general area.

People are creatures of habit. On the train, people not only sit in the same car each morning and evening, but many often sit in the same seat, or at least in the same general area. Because of this, you get to know people who ride in your car. Among friends and acquaintances, it isn't uncommon to hear, "You weren't here yesterday, did you drive?" or "Did you take the later/earlier train?" Among strangers, it can be unnerving. You generally notice who is on the train and who isn't, but you don't usually point it out to a stranger. I once overheard a woman say to her friend, "We can sit next to him because he gets off in Solana Beach. Right?" She asked him. Then, "You think I don't notice."

Another time a man made a comment to a young student-looking guy who was eating a big sandwich on the train ride home. The man said something like, "That sandwich looks good" (which is a normal thing to say). But then a woman he was with said, "He has a good dinner every day on the train home." The young man just made some comment about how he saves his lunch for later, but seemed a bit weirded out. I would be, too, if I knew that somebody noticed what I was eating every day.

So I guess the moral here is to realize that you will get noticed in this micro-commuting world, but that there is a fine line between being friendly and creeping someone out.

All in the Family

My Mom and me on the Coaster together.

In my Coaster commuter world, there are two sets of regulars on the train who are couples: an older couple who sit quietly and read the newspaper in the morning, and a young couple who bike to the train station together and work at UCSD. I am also part of a commuting family group, although the dynamics are a bit different. One day per week my Dad rides the Coaster to see his grandkids, and another day my Mom rides the Coaster, also to see the kids. They share a Coaster pass, and so can't ride together. Plus, the point is to help my sister out with her two children, so she gets help from either Mom or Dad twice per week.

My Dad and me during our morning commute.

On those mornings, I get to ride with one of them half-way to downtown. (They get off at an earlier stop.) It's a nice way to spend the time in the morning, plus I know that some annoying person won't sit next to me. They take an earlier train home, so I don't see them in the afternoon, but, those two days, I look forward to talking to them during the morning commute. I wonder how many other people are part of our elite group of family commuters.

Where I Begin and End

San Diego Santa Fe Station, on the National Register of Historic Places.

To give you a sense of place in my commuter world, I begin in Oceanside in the morning and end in San Diego. The trip takes me almost exactly 1 hour. At the end of the day, I do it all over again (but starting in San Diego). The San Diego Santa Fe Station is a historic landmark, or something important like that.

Oceanside Train Station, not on any sort of historical list.

Oceanside doesn't have any type of cool designation, but it does have free parking in an enclosed garage, and connections to buses, the Sprinter (train going east), and trains going north (Amtrak, Metrolink). It is also two blocks from the beach, and smells of ocean air.

And so my work days begin and end.

Fashion It's Not

My "commuter" shoes.

Anyone who has walked along a busy city street on a weekday knows about the tennis shoe fashion rule. This rule states that if you walk to work or walk from public transportation to your place of employment, you are allowed to wear comfortable walking shoes, even if it looks ridiculous. I'm not sure what fashion guru Tim Gunn has to say on the subject, but I, as a general follower of fashion trends, think it's a necessary fashion faux pas. That said, most people who ride the Coaster don't do this. Generally, I've noticed, they wear practical shoes to begin with—no stiletto heels for these casual So Cal office workers.

I, on the other hand, like to wear heels or otherwise not-so-comfortable-but-fashionable shoes to work. So, I am one of the few Coaster riders who wears "commuter shoes." I don't wear tennis shoes but unassuming black slip-ons in colder weather (see photo), and flip-flops when it's warm. I find it strange when I see women in heels on the train, and wonder how far they have to walk in those things to get to their office.

The best part about wearing commuter shoes is the end of the day when I can take off my office shoes and slip on flat, comfortable shoes to walk to the train. Ahhhh.

Train Delays: Still Better than Traffic

The train schedule, which, barring a disaster, is pretty accurate.

Long delays on the train are rare, but they do happen. And when they do, after getting over how totally annoyed I am, It actually makes me appreciate the train more for getting me to and from work, on time, almost every time I ride. The four major delays that occurred while I was riding were all the result of a major event that directly affected the rail line: a fire, a "flood," an earthquake, and a train crash.

The fire happened in the afternoon, at about the middle of the train route. I was excited because I was able to leave work early that day and catch the earlier train. That proved to be a moot point, since we sat at the station for about an hour waiting for the fire to be put out. This meant that two trains were now combined into one, and I didn't get home any earlier.

The flood was the result of heavy rains that lasted for more than a week. Since the train rides through a pretty extensive wetlands area, rising water can occasionally be a problem. This time was also on the train ride home, and we actually made it to the second station. There, we waited for about an hour while a crew came in to check the tracks. I was with my friend and co-worker Shirley, so at least I had company. And they let us leave the train, so Shirley went to a near-by deli and bought us a six-pack of beer. We shared with a few others around us, and generally enjoyed ourselves, even though Shirley had to cancel a dinner date.

The earthquake, although not large, was apparently pretty jarring. None of us on the train would know, though, because we didn't feel it. It happened about 5 minutes into our ride home. We knew it happened because people's cell phones started ringing and the news quickly spread. We again made it to the second station, and waited there while they checked the tracks. This took about 30 minutes.

The train crash was more dramatic, as it involved riders actually getting off the train and being shuttled on buses. After getting on the train one morning, an announcement was made that we would go as far as Sorrento Valley (about 30 minutes into the 1-hour total ride) and be shuttled to the last two stops by bus. We weren't told the reason at the time (maybe they said "cars on the tracks"), but we later learned that a freight train (no passengers) had jackknifed off the tracks the night before in an area that only has one set of tracks. Many people, upon hearing this, got off the train, presumably to drive or maybe just ditch work. I stayed, since I didn't want to deal with traffic and then parking downtown. The ride was typical except that the train was pretty empty, since many people made other arrangements. At the Sorrento Valley station, we were all herded off the train and into about 10 waiting buses, which then got onto the freeway (into morning traffic) and drove us to the last two stops. This made me about 30 minutes late, but it actually wasn't too bad. The train was back to normal for the commute home, and the derailed cars could be seen on the side of the tracks for the next week or so.

Despite these four pretty serious delays, the train has been good to me. I don't have to deal with car traffic every day, two times per day, and I get to relax and read or sleep to and from work. That's a pretty good trade-off, I'd say.

I Only Read Dostoevsky in the Winter

Some light reading for the train.

As a general rule, people on the train don't comment about what other people are reading. We all go about our business, ignoring others as best as possible. Most people read the newspaper in the morning and the latest spy novel or cheap paperback in the evening – generally no-brainer stuff that doesn't require much thinking. (I can't account for the handful of commuters who read e-books.) I usually ascribe to this rule, although I'll occasionally pull a "classic" off my bookshelf that I never got around to reading to see if it's worth all the hype.

To this end, I recently started reading Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov – a tough read at times, especially after a long day of editing, but altogether a good book. As with every other book I've read while on the train, I didn't expect anyone to comment on it. So, I was quite surprised when I got not one but two comments in one week, and rather odd ones at that. My favorite comment was a man who said, "Dostoevsky, huh? I only read him when I'm depressed." Another man said a few days later, "I like Dostoevsky, but I only read him during the winter." What?

I have two theories about why I got more comments about Dostoevsky than all of the other books I've read combined:

1. Maybe more people have read this book and so there is more of a probability that I'll get a comment about it (although I didn't get any comments when I read Mark Twain).

2. Or maybe people want me (and others around us) to know that they are just as into the classics as I am, and are bragging a bit.

Either way, the comments I got cracked me up. I think I'll pick another classic for my next book to see if the trend holds.

Big Brother is Watching (or not)

I am being watched.

My first week of work, I noticed that there were cameras in the hallways of my building. A little creepy, but not unheard of. Then I noticed that there were cameras "concealed" in little domes in the ceiling of my actual office. A little creepier. Later I noticed that there were cameras at every Coaster train station. The station where I get on in the morning, in fact, has about five that I can see, and I'm sure there are more.

My first thought after becoming aware that I was surrounded by cameras most of my work day was of CSI and how they solve crimes using surveillance cameras; if something should happen to me, they could use the cameras to discover my where-abouts. My next thought was, between the train stations and work, my every move is being tracked. Again, kind of creepy.

After working from home for years, this whole camera thing caught me off guard. I had never even noticed security cameras before, and now I see them everywhere. Not really sure what this means. Maybe that an alien race is watching us to learn our habits and will soon take over the world. Or possibly that I just get out more now.

My paranoia was put to rest, however, after I read in a news article that in some big city (London maybe?) about one-third of the cameras don't work. Budget cuts have caused them to fall into disrepair. So maybe I'm not being watched after all. Or maybe I am...

FM-ers Far and Wide

Heather and me at a trade show marketing our wares.

In my first blog post, I mentioned that I used to be an editor for the magazine Fitness Management. Since that posting less than 1 month ago, I found out that three of my former co-workers (and current good friends) also have blogs. And two of those were started within two weeks of mine. Crazy!

I bring this up mostly for the benefit of you readers who are friends with writers/former writers/editors/former editors — you may, some day, get mentioned in a blog. We writers/editors can't seem to help ourselves. I, in fact, received specific instructions from a college friend NOT to mention him in my blog. Not sure what he's afraid of...

Here is a brief run-down of what we former FM-ers are doing these days:

Christina is now a photographer in LA.
http://blog.cgandolfo.com/

Heather is a writer/editor at Bucknell University.
http://johnsrenovation.wordpress.com/

Shana is a freelance writer/editor in Boston.
http://2november2009.blogspot.com/

FM didn't know what great talent it had when it had it!

The Sweet Smell of ... Success?

Surprisingly, bad smells on the train don't come from the bathroom.

When I traipsed through Europe while in college, I became quite accustomed to two things while riding the trains: being vigilant about watching out for thieves and body odor. Not my body odor, but that of others. I bring this up only to point out that this is not a problem on the Coaster (nor is thievery). Deodorant use seems to be widespread in San Diego County. But that's not to say that repugnant smells don't assail my nostrils on occasion.

The first bad smell to hit me one unsuspecting morning was the grease smell of some type of morning sandwich, like an Egg McMuffin. It filled the whole car, and made my stomach churn even after the guy finished eating it. This is just too early for so much grease.

Another common odor is cheap hairspray, especially on rainy or misty mornings. Think the school bus in high school or the women's locker room.

And lest you think it's just women's beauty products that offend, more than once I have had to move because a man was wearing way too much cheap cologne. Once during a crowded morning commute I had to pull my shirt up over my nose to keep from gagging from this guy's morning cologne shower.

Bad breath has also motivated me to move.

One of the most unusual smells I've encountered on the Coaster is manure. I got on one morning and the whole train reeked of it. I looked around and no one else seemed to be reacting. It was really strong, and I had to cover my nose for the entire hour ride. When walking to work that morning, I asked a guy who works in my building about it, and he said, "You obviously haven't been riding the train very long." Turns out, this happens a few times a year, since the trains sit overnight right next to agricultural fields. Tomatoes maybe. So if they are fertilizing and the wind is just right, all of the cars get hit with it, and the trains smell for a couple of days. They actually made an announcement on my ride home that day, since they must have received many complaints.

Before riding the Coaster, I never thought of bad smells as something I'd have to deal with. But it's all part of the commuting experience. So maybe success actually does have a scent.

Things I Shouldn't Have Overheard

I never know what I'm going to overhear when I get on the train.

An abbreviated list of things I've overheard on the train that the talker should realize isn't for public consumption. Most are phone conversations, but some are discussions with other passengers.

• Phone numbers and addresses—all the time!
• Account numbers
• Nurses talking about doctors at Scripps Encinitas
• A juror talking about a trial (yup!)
  
• Lawyers talking about cases (does your lawyer ride the train?)
  
• A woman having a detailed phone conversation about a business loan
• A man discussing his mortgage loan on the phone
• A mom telling her young daughter what not to tell daddy when they get to his house (they apparently are not together)
• A college-age guy talking loudly on the phone about all of the "hot bitches" at the trade show (This would have been entertaining, except he was sooo loud.)
  

The usual fare:

• What is on sale at the grocery store/Costco
• Medical problems/treatments (sooo common)
• Vacations planned and returned from
• Shop talk (computer programmers, nurses, courthouse workers, etc.)
• What's for dinner
• Kids, pets, families in general

Dolphins and Deer and Coyotes, Oh My!

A wetland area where I often see deer from the train.

A coworker and I were walking from the train to the office recently, and I was telling her about the loud people in my train car that morning. Her response was, "I love this commute. It's way better than the El." She was referring to the El in Chicago, which stands for "elevated train." It's basically a subway, but it is mostly above-ground.

Since I went to college in Chicago, I am quite familiar with the El, and had to agree with her about the Coaster being a much nicer, cleaner, and quieter ride. What strikes me as the biggest contrast, however, is the view.

The ride from Oceanside to downtown is right along the coast, sometimes yards from the ocean. Certain times of the year I can see the sunrise over a lagoon or the sunset over the ocean. It is quite stunning. And quite different from the grimy city view you get from the El.

Along with the beautiful scenery is the wildlife that comes with it. Beautiful white cranes, ducks, and rabbits are commonplace. About a dozen times I've seen deer right next to the tracks in a field. Often there are three or four together, and, in the spring, there are usually young deer with their moms. A couple of times I've seen dolphin playing in the waves in the morning; when this happens, the whole car switches their attention to the ocean. The sight of dolphins never gets old. Once I saw a coyote disappearing into a thick stand of trees.

So even if certain things about commuting on the train are inconvenient or annoying, the views often make it all worthwhile. After all, I could be in an underground subway looking at rats and graffiti.

Never Too Far

View from my office. Yes, that's the train station right outside my window.

Lest you think I forget about the train once I get to work, don't you worry. The train is never very far. See photo.

The Cool Group

Typical seats on the train.

The Coaster train has a hierarchy, which, in my observation, is in direct inverse correlation to how cool you were in high school. The "popular" crowd tends to be on the nerdy side, not very trendy, and pretty boring when it comes to conversation topics. (I know because you can generally hear every conversation in your vicinity when on the train.)

The regulars have their usual seats on the train, and all share a similar characteristic that leads to my comparison to high school cliques: a complete disregard for others around them. They are loud and assuming, and show a disdain for non-regular riders who invade their space. This is especially true for those new or infrequent riders who show complete ignorance when it comes to seating. These regulars have their favorite spots, and become quite upset when those seats are taken, usually loudly proclaiming to their group, "Seems like our spot is taken" or "We'll have to find a different place to sit today." Or, worse (for the unsuspecting rider), they will just sit next to him/her, surrounding the person on all sides with their loud, boring chatter.

I lucked out because my Mom had been riding the Coaster for almost a year before I started riding, and I generally knew that the regulars had their favorite car and favorite seats. My first week I sat quietly and observed, figuring out all of the anthropological undertones. As a regular myself now, I don't belong to any "group." Most riders, in fact, don't. I sit by my Mom or Dad when they ride the train, or a coworker who also sometimes rides. But, generally, I sit by myself and read or sleep.

I had a chance to join a group in the beginning, and even sat with them a couple of times, but decided that I valued my time more than talking to these strangers who I generally didn't have much in common with. (To leave the group unobtrusively, I actually had to start riding in a different car.)

For any of you who may think it sad that I don't have any "train friends," see above for my description of them. I think the nerdy group in high school finally found their place to be cool. I, for one, am happy to avoid them, and let them revel in their popular status.

It's Not How You Feel...

My Coach bag.

When I worked at home, I wore fleece — every day. If it was a hot day, I would wear shorts and a T-shirt. I have a whole closet full of cotton T-shirts, fleece pants, and comfy pajama bottoms. I no longer wear any of these. After my first week of work in the "real world," I quickly realized that I would need an entire closet full of new clothes. The three pairs of nice pants and handful of corporate-type tops I had for the occasional work event that required "grown-up" clothes were not going to get me through even the first month of my new job. I needed to go shopping.

After spending more than a few hundred dollars on new work clothes, I felt I was good for a while. I supplemented these new items with two new nice coats (I only had sweatshirts and casual jackets) and a few pairs of shoes. I was set. During about my third week of commuting, a woman sat across from me on the train who was really put together. Her hair and clothes and shoes were all polished and flattering. I tried not to stare too much, but I wanted to take it all in to see if this was something that I could imitate. It was then that I noticed her bag. It was beautiful. Big, shiny, black, modern. The inside was this beautiful burgundy. I coveted her bag. Upon closer inspection, I realized why: It was Coach.

Great, I thought, no way I can afford that. I looked dismally at my functional canvas briefcase. Sigh... When I got home that night, I immediately went online to find out how much such a bag would put me out. For a large bag, the cost was around $400. Yikes. I put aside any hopes of being in the chic commuter crowd.

Months later, while shopping with my sister at an outlet mall, I noticed that there was a sale going on at the Coach outlet. When I walked in, I found out that they were handing out coupons for an additional 30 percent off. Wow, I thought, this could really be in my grasp. I walked to the back of the store where all good bargain shoppers know the real sales are. In the back corner was a shelf with bags that were 50 percent off, in addition to the coupon I had. After rummaging through tacky yellow bags or ones with too many logos, I found it — the large black leather bag of my dreams. There was only one left, and I grabbed it immediately. Even though the bag was on sale and I had a coupon, this still wouldn't be a $40 purchase. I had to be emotionally ready to put down a good chunk of change for what amounted to a glorified purse. I am not the type to do this sort of thing. I don't think I'd ever even spent more than $20 on a purse before. But, since I was now a commuter with a job downtown, I needed to look the part.

After years of wearing fleece all day and not even carrying a purse, I wanted to make the full transition into being a real "working woman." I wanted a Coach bag. So, I bought the bag and have not had one ounce of buyer's remorse. I carry it every day on the train and can feel good about how I look and the image I present. This may seem petty or vain, but it's part of what helps me get through the day. I am woman, see my bag.

Yes, I Really Can

Home office desk gathering dust.

I worked from home for 7 years. And, yes, it was really great. I went to the gym at 1:30 in the afternoon when no one else was there and watched Guiding Light or re-runs of Charmed while running on the treadmill. I got all of my errands done in the middle of the day and had no trouble scheduling appointments; I didn't have to wrangle with the receptionist about when I could come in and if my boss would let me leave early and how long would it all take. I got to write off the square footage of my office for my taxes. I got to sleep in and stay up late. I had the life. Until I got a call one January morning from my boss saying that the magazine that we were editors for (Fitness Management) is no longer being published, and we were all fired. We had two days to wrap things up.

One year and four months later, I am working in an office and have a 1-hour commute each way (by train). No more gym-time in the middle of the day or easy appointment-making. One good thing that has come out of this (besides a paycheck and time to read War and Peace) is that the train is a never-ending source of entertaining, amusing, and interesting people. Like the towel guy and the big hair woman and my secret crush guy (I will get to these in some later post).

For now, I tell myself that I enjoy being out in the world instead of being holed up in my condo with my cat and Mac computer. I am ready to face "the man" and see what it's really like to be a working stiff. But really, I am just trying to figure out when the hell I can fit in my dentist appointment.

Stay tuned....