Trains and the Gender Divide

As I noted in my last post, all of the people who work on the Coaster are men, except one: Cindy, one of the engineers who drives the train. Here is another train/gender-related observation: All (yes, all) of the people I’ve seen taking photos or video of the train have been boys/men.

Without fail, a couple of times a month, I see one man or a small group of guys with a nice camera or video camera on a tri-pod at one of the train stations or along the route somewhere. These aren’t tourists just snapping photos of the local train; they have obviously planned this outing, and probably even know the train schedule.

Since childhood, boys seem to have a fascination with trains. While girls may share this fascination for a while, they seem to grow out of it at some point—probably around the same time they start to love horses or princesses. Some boys never grow out of it, as seen with those who love model trains.

I wonder, though, what do these photographers/videographers do with their footage of trains? Do they have a collection? Is there a website to post such things? Maybe a local train enthusiast group? Maybe I’ll ask one of them if I get the chance. I’m sure there is a lot to this train subculture than meets the eye.

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.