Strange Things and Weirdos IX

Yes, indeed, it's time for another installment of Strange Things and Weirdos. This time, we are going to be covering the timespan of a few months, for these events have a central theme: the BART.

BART is the Bay Area Rapid Transit mass transportation here. It's sort of like Chicago's EL, but it's too expensive and doesn't run at convenient hours. Nonetheless, it is the only mass transit here, so it is used by many. The system is kind of old, and is pretty dirty, as I doubt it has been washed in many years. Cloth seats lend to the general nastiness and funk, but all in all, it's better than nothing. Unfortunately, it's usually as expensive, or in some cases, more expensive, and always less time efficient to take BART as opposed to riding in a car. If you carpool or if there is more than one person in your family taking BART, a car is cheaper all around.

So, first, something mildly amusing to get the story rolling. I'm sitting in a BART station and a train is approaching. The sign overhead flashes: Train Out of Service / Train Won't Stop. The train slows approaching the station, then stops. Matter of fact, it stays stopped for about 5 minutes, all the while with this sign flashing 'Train Won't Stop'. Good.

But that's not all that funny. The first story brings us back to April, when I was flying back from Minnesota. I landed at SFO, so I had to take BART back. I get on, and another Berkeley student, a poor freshman girl, sits down in front of me. She's obviously returning from Spring Break as well, as she has a suitcase, etc. For the first couple of stops, nothing is amiss. Then this old Asian guy comes walking from car to car trying to talk to people, and he zeros in on this poor girl.

Now, this girl is probably a bit timid, and since she's new here, probably hasn't dealt with people on BART much. Many of the people that ride BART are crazy. They're even worse than the street panhandlers because they know they have a captive audience. You either ignore them completely or give them a look of death; if you don't, they'll pester you the entire ride. Well, this poor girl hasn't learned how to be an asshole to BART crazies yet, so this Asian guy starts talking her up.

"Do you think that people should be allowed to drive SUVs?" She is polite with him and enters into a discussion, and then realizes she's been had. This guy starts launching into a tirade about how SUVs are evil, should be outlawed, how our president is a murderer, and then he starts getting into this existential shit about how we can live forever. He starts going on and on about how the government has discovered how to turn off some receptor in a gene that controls how we age but won't tell anyone about it. The girl asks why anyone would want to live forever, which really launches this guy off. I quit listening for a while, but I'd drift in and out of the conversation to hear shit like "This government wants us to all die so they can control us, but they have the technology. Don't doubt it. They will dole out the cure to our children so they can live in slavery forever."

Then we cross the bay and hit West Oakland. We get some rather seedy and questionable characters on the train there. Two black guys sit down across from me, and across the aisle from this Asian guy. One of them is obviously a student; he's well dressed and looks respectable. The other is some sort of street tough. His eyes are yellowed and bloodshot, he's got a couple of cuts, some tattoos, his clothes are dirty, and he's about 6'3" / 300 lbs. After a few minutes of listening to this Asian guy go on and on, he asks the student to his left and me "What the fuck is he talking about? He needs to shut up. I need some more crack." At this point, I'm beginning to wish that I had at least brought my K-Bar.

Then the Asian guy says: "Here in the US, our civil war 400 years ago taught us about slavery. The black man chose to be enslaved by the white man, and it was because the white man left out the gene that turns off when we die that he was enslaved." (I'm just repeating what he said, not claiming that it makes any sense). At this point, I thought the big black guy across from me was going to kill the Asian dude. He said something like "What the fuck did he just say?" and started to move that way when the student talked a bit of sense into him and he just started cussing at the Asian guy.

A couple of stops later, we're are the Berkeley BART station, and this girl isn't sure if she's at the right place. I told her that she was, and she said 'Thanks'. The Asian guy gets off the train following her, and I said to her as she exited "I bet that's the last time you talk to anyone on BART!" She looked over her shoulder, gave me this wide eyed exasperated expression and says "Yeah!"

Moral of this story: Don't talk to strangers on BART or you're likely to get your ass kicked by a crackhead who's just been insulted by a racist Asian without a sense of history.

Our second story brings us again to BART, although this time just a few days ago. On certain days out here, there is a lot of pollution in the air, so the BART system opens its doors for free and we have a 'spare the air' day. It encourages people to take mass transit instead of drive, and beecause it's the only day where it's actually economical to ride BART, it's jammed. Every parking lot is full, and the trains are standing room only. Unfortunately, it also means that homless guys and crazies can just walk right through the gates and shuffle from one train to the next panhandling and checking trash cans.

On this particular day, I was riding back home on the BART, and had just boarded at the Berkeley station. The train takes off, and no sooner than the train has taken off does this 20ish black guy with an LA Kings jersey and baggy pants run up the aisle in the train, pushing everyone out of the way screaming 'Look out!' and charges ahead into the next car. Everyone in a little annoyed at this, but they also realize that every nutcase is probably riding this train today for lack of anything better to do. Things settle down. Then a few minutes later, he comes back again, jumping over and around people, and knocking people out of the way. This time he's screaming "Look out, federal agent coming through!" and dashes to the back of the train. Now everyone's wondering what this guy's problem is. We take off again from the next station, and he continues. He must have made the circuit on the train about 6 times before the BART announcer says "If you have anyone causing problems on your car, please press the call button and let me know." Then we stop and the BART police get on the train with the dog. Nevermind that the train is crowded as shit because there's like 600 people trying to get home, no, the dog gets on and now this guys chase is for real. He dashes off the train screaming "Federal Agent! Move!" and dashes up the escalator at Lake Merritt with the BART police in hot pursuit with their German Shepherd. Then the train doors and everything returns to normal.

I'm not sure there is a moral to this story. On the plus side, I have actually seen a law enforcement agent of Kalifornia do something worthwhile, so I have a modicum of respect for the BART police now.

Lies, Damn Lies and Kalifornia

There are several lies about this state bordering the Pacific Ocean. I'm only going to get into one, and it's about the weather.

The general idea is that the weather in Kalifornia is great all the time. In reality, this isn't the case. First, only a narrow strip along the coast has 'good' weather. Most of the state is a desert. Second, that strip that has 'good' weather in reality has shitty weather most of the time. Let's look at a breakdown of the seasons:

Spring: ~March - May

This season undoubtedly has the best weather. There usually isn't much rain, and during the day, temperatures are usually in the 70s. It's sunny much of the time, although it can be quite overcast for long spells. The problem is at night the temperature plummets and since there's little humidity, you wind up freezing because of the shorts you wore during the day. Thus you have to carry shorts, a change of long pants, a fleece and a windbreaker to work with you in the morning. That's a pain in the ass.

Summer: ~June - August

Summer is the second best season. Unfortunately, it can get hot. The heat is usually in the high 80s to mid 90s, which isn't too bad because of the low humidity, but it is misery in most of the houses here because no one has A/C and none of the houses are insulated for shit. Seriously, no one insulates anything. My old apartment would be 117 during the day because of the sun and 51 at night because the temperature plummeted. My thermometer indoors would record the hi and low temps, so that's an empirical number. Again you have the problem of carrying all your junk with you to prepare for all types of weather, yet it's worse in this season because of the larger temperature differential.

Fall: ~September - November

This is very nearly the worst season. You think: "Oh, pretty leaves changing colors!" but that isn't the case since it's the hot season here. Temperatures can reach the high 90s and I have been here for over 100 days. The fog rolls in and stays in all day until the late afternoon when you get about 1 hour of sun. But you get sunburned because of the excessive UV coming through the clouds. Changing colors? Fuck no. You either get green trees that have no idea what fucking season it is anymore because the weather is so screwy or you get ones that are wilted because of lack of water.

Winter: ~December - February

After that heat of Fall, you get the horrible misery of rain which is nice for the first few days. But it never really rains. It just tries for three months. It's like an old man trying to take a piss for 30 minutes but can't get more than a dribble. And it's constant. It starts and won't let up. This past winter we had a continuous 42 days of rain. Never rains heavy enough to be a real rainstorm, just some light drizzly crap. You see the sun twice in three months. It's painfully depressing to not see the sun for three months. You get soaked everywhere you go. Mold grows like crazy. And then it gets cold at night and everything in your apartment is damp because there's nothing that hasn't been touched by the rain. Even better, people drive like even MORE shit, which you might not think is possible once you see them drive here in the summer. You trade cold and snow for three months of depressing attempted rain.

I'm not sure what the weather is like further inland here, but my experience so far has been hot and dry. Today it was 115 in the shade with a heat index of 121. It only gets down to 78 at night, so we don't have that clothing problem. It's looking a little better. It better not rain all winter, or if it does, it better not be half-assed. I want my goddamned thunderstorms that wash the pavement away, then break away to reveal clear skies in about 10 minutes.

Useless Friends

Last night I went to a friend's house for 'movie night'. It's our way of hanging out together. One of my friends who was there always antagonizes me about not liking Kalifornia, telling me it's not that bad. We usually playfully banter back and forth about it, which I have no problem with. She began again on me last night, and we were joking around when one of my other friends entered into the conversation and was serious. Then the argument became rather heated and I became pissed off. The basic assertion of these two women was that people in Berkeley are more friendly than people in the midwest. They said that I only saw people as unfriendly here because I expected people to be rude and that people were nice to me back home because I had a different attitude there. They wouldn't listen to me, and one of my friends (the one who joined in later) insisted that people in the midwest wouldn't talk to her. Well, fuck them, here's my answer to them, despite their unwillingness to listen.

First, realize that people in the midwest won't bother you if you look like you're in a hurry, staring at your feet and have a pissed off look on your face. So, since you have a Kalifornia attitude already, don't expect anyone to kiss your ass. Second, I don't know who the fuck you talked to in Berkeley, but let me know who they are so that I can actually have someone talk to me further than "unh". Third, people are more inclined to talk to you here, because both of you are good looking girls, of which there is a major shortage here. Back in the midwest, you're in a larger pond and thus attract less attention.

Next, I am accused of having a different attitude at home. I wish that were true. Every time I go home, I find myself ignoring people, not making eye contact, and not talking to people. After a few people at checkstands or just walking down the street say hi to me, I have to remind myself I'm not in hell any longer and that I can actually talk to people without getting ignored or yelled at. But the people at home ARE more friendly. I think so. My parents think so. All of my friends who have visited Kalifornia think so. Co-workers who came out here from the midwest think so. I'm not crazy and don't have skewed perceptions. People here are just assholes.

Which brings up another point: my attitude toward people here and my expectations. When I first came here, I expected everyone to be nice; nicer than the midwest in fact. I'd heard that Berkeley was very liberal, and I thought that would be a welcome break from the conservative assholes back home--but it wasn't. People here were more rude than all but the worst conservative assholes back home. It's part of what contributed to my first two years out here being so miserable. That was an expectation on my part that people would be NICE--not that I expected them to be assholes like was implied. Now, of course, I do expect people to be assholes, but that's after 3 years here.

In short, the accusations were garbage, and all I wound up being was pissed off for nothing. My friend I usually banter with diffused the situation pretty well once we got to the house, but my other friend kept at me for a bit. I just about got up and left.

There's only one place I've ever been where the people were more unfriendly than Berkeley, and that's Rolla. Guess what? I wouldn't live in either and if the Air Force accidentally bombed either of them to the ground I woudn't shed a tear.

So, what have I learned here? Even friends you have here are slightly Kaliforniaized. I'll be amazed if I leave here with more than one friend.

Home

Surprisingly, there has not been much to bitch about recently. I moved on the 13th of June, and now it's nearly a month later and I still have about 50% of my things to unpack. Today I brought the total from 85% unpacked to the now 50%, and may unpack more before I head to bed. My place is looking much bigger already, although I'm sure I won't finish tonight. I have been so busy that today is the third day that I have had at my new place since I moved in. Yeah.

So, for those who weren't tuned in, here's the comparison between my old place and my new place:

	Old	New
In California	(-)	(-)
Town Quality	Bad (-)	OK (+)
Area of Town	Bad (-)	Good (+)
Parking	On-street (-)	Covered off-street (+)
Dishwasher	No (-)	Yes (+)
Washer/Dryer	None (-)	Full-sized in apt. (+)
Square feet	280	653
Cost per sq. ft.	$2.50/month	$1.42/month
Hot tub access	Yes (+)	Yes (+)
Pool access	No (-)	Yes (+)
Good landlord	Yes (+)	Yes (+)
Stove type	Gas (+)	Electric (-)

Really, the only thing that I would change about the new place is that it has an electric stove, something that I can live with. The old place was cramped, moldy and kind of crappy in general. The new place is bright, clean, and spacious. It's even got 9' cielings. I feel like I'm living in a palace out here. Just need to keep my costs down and I'll be money wise, too. My only real fear is that I'll be isolated from my friends in Berkeley. I've only got two good friends in Berkeley though, so maybe that's not as big a deal as I thought.

I am a little surprsied that I haven't made as many friends here as I did in undergrad. I lived in a dorm then, so I saw those people more frequently perhaps, but I still see people often while at work, so I don't know if that qualifies. While in undergrad, if I had to count the number of people I made good friends with, I would say that I made 12 close friends. I had a number of people more than that with whom I would say that I am solid friends. Granted, I was there 5 years and have only been here 3. My last two years there, though, I picked up only one of those friends. Here, I have two close friends, and two that I would consider friends, one of whom doesn't count because I was friends with her at U of I and she wound up coming here for grad school. Eleven close friends divided by 3 years, or if you will, 12 divided by 5, gives a minimum of 2.4 close friends per year in undergrad. Here the ratio is 0.6 per year. Perhaps there are lies, damn lies, and statistics, but there is definitely something about this place that is not conducive to making friends that easily. Is it grad school? Is it the fact that I'm in an apartment? Or is it more like the people in the area are assholes? I'm betting there's some of all three, but a good portion of the latter.

For those of you who were there on the 4th, it was a great time. I had a blast. And so did Mr. Incredible. Being home makes me feel alive again, lets me breathe and I feel at home there. I spent time in Illinois, Minnesota, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Pennsylvania, Florida, Arizona, New Hampshire, North Carolina, Kentucky and Missouri. I've driven through a lot more than these, but these states I have spent enough time in to get a sense of the area. Of all these places, I could live in any but California, Arizona and Florida. I'm not enthralled with Pennsylvania or Arkansas much, but I could live there. Arizona and Florida are too hot and too crowded in the cities. California is a gigantic cesspool.

I think the saddest thing that I have lost out here is cello. The orchestra never cut it, and my playing has completely gone to shit. There is a big hole in my life, and it is cello. I'm trying to rectify that, but it isn't easy with the amount of time that I work.

Good luck to everyone out there trying to find their lost passions and being comfortable with where they are in life.