I’ve been riding public transportation to and from work for a couple weeks now and these are the quickly noticeable benefits:
- Using way less gas
- Being more productive by working while riding
- Less stressed from not having to deal with traffic
- Exercise because I ride my bike to the train station
I guessed this would be the result long before I even started riding, but some other not-so obvious benefits emerged from commuting, such as my diminishing intolerance of people. As I get older I notice I’m liking people less and less, probably because of all the crazy, stupid things I see them do to others on a regular basis. I have less faith in humans with each passing day, but as I sit, at this very moment, squeezed between two colorful and full-figured women, my tolerance level is forced to grow with each passing mile. It’s not terribly comfortable, but I’m making do because apparently that’s what you do on the train in a busy metropolis.
The other happy side effect of riding is the diversity. Its a microcosm of the Los Angeles lifestyle. Growing up in Orange County, I led a pretty sheltered life, not being exposed to anything below the middle class income level. As sad as that is, I fought my way out pretty fast, and as I move from one metroplex to another, I’m picking up on the diversity of each new city. Being in Long Beach, the urban element is more prevalent as well as the prominence of a large gay community. Whatever reservations I had before about a city like Long Beach are long gone, replaced with more acceptance.
I actually thought I was pretty well adjusted to urban life before, but my resolve was tested the first time I rode the train through some of the most notorious and depressed neighborhoods of South Central Los Angeles. At certain stops, I was totally on guard, alert to each gangsta-looking dude that hopped in the car with me. No big surprise, I haven’t even seen the slightest inkling of danger. Everyone on this train is just trying to get from one place or another, whether that’s to a job, school, or to go hang with their homies. Truth be told, I am likely as threatening to them as they seemed to me, a middle-class white boy invading their sanctuary is bound to create some xenophobia.
I knew I had to adjust my mindset pretty quick when I saw one young kid get on the train dressed in stereotypical hoodlum garb; ball cap cocked to one side, baggy pants holding on for dear-life just under his ass, showing off his boxers. He had on a lot of blue which, on the wrong block, could get him killed. I immediately assumed his was a punk and my senses heightened as he got on the train, right up until I saw the USC college schedule tucked under his arm along with some text books. I didn’t apologize for my ignorance, but I vigorously admonished myself for being a complete ass.
This is not to say that I completely let down my guard. I still keep my backpack tucked tightly behind my legs in case someone felt like grabbing it, but I would do that just about anywhere… except maybe in Orange County. I’m not fixed, but I’m learning. I’m still going to lock my doors at night, and still watch my back while walking the streets at night, but now I’m a little less suspect of every “punk” that crosses my path on the downtown train.
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