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Tuesday, May 20. 2008
3rd and Broadway
Some days I wonder why I even get out of bed.Downtown San Diego is an interesting place. At 3rd and Broadway you can stand at the entrance to Horton Plaza, the downtown mall that ought to be the centerpiece of Downtown — except that now we have Petco Park, the baseball stadium the San Diego Padres call home. That’s down the street a bit, and the buses and trolleys take you there.
On 3rd and Broadway is the local NBC affiliate, and then the usual collection of office buildings and the little, overt-priced eateries that cater to the Downtown crowd.
It’s also where I catch the #20 bus that takes me to my J.O.B. in Kearny Mesa. There must be two dozen bus lines that stop there, two of which I ride; the #20 and the #15. So I spend some time on that corner. With the Trusty Trek. Where I go the Trek goes.
Sometimes, when it looks like I might catch the #20 at 11th and C Streets, by the Starbucks and the City College Trolley station, I’ll find the #20 has just left and quite frankly, I ain’t zipping up 11th Street, in rush hour traffic, to chase it. In four blocks it gets on the freeway and dodging traffic to catch the #20 at the final stop before the freeway is quite hazardous. Found this out the hard way.One day, while thinking real smart-like, I decided to make it down Broadway before the #20 got to 11th and C Streets. It would be a tight accomplishment, seeing as how the #15 was late and the prudent thing to do was to catch the damn bus on the always crowded, and I never get a seat if I board there, City College Trolley Stop.
Well, as the #15 was traveling West on Broadway, I saw the #20 traveling East on Broadway, just about to cross 6th Street. So, I jumped off at the next stop, confident I could catch that bus at the stop on 8th Street and Broadway. Sadly, the downtown traffic is so congested, the drivers so scurrilous in their driving habits, and the pedestrians — THE [expletive deleted] PEDESTRIANS — so … they just think bicyclists ought to stay out of their way … sigh …
So, off I went, trying to catch the #20 — which I did — at the very last stop before it got on the freeway. I thought myocardial infarction #3 was about to arrive. It took nearly two hours for my heart to recover. Decided I’d never do that again.
Not to mention, the number of times, just on that one bus chase, the Trusty Trek almost met a motorized vehicle that, quite frankly, didn’t give a damn about the bicyclist zipping up Broadway at 20 miles per hour trying to catch a damn bus!
So … back to 3rd and Broadway. You see all sorts of characters on 3rd and Broadway, some nice hotties too! Going to their jobs or one of the “talent” agencies … I really like waiting there for the bus! It’s actually on 8th and Broadway!Other people panhandle, dig through the trash, rustling around looking for who knows what — money most likely (that’s what I look for), lost from a quickly moving pocket — and otherwise occupy their day hoping for something to happen that will change their reality. Even if it’s only enough change to buy a burger off Wendy’s dollar menu and a half pint from the liquor store.
And then we have the usual masters of the universe; the ones so complete in their lives they have to tell the rest of us how to conduct ourselves and live our lives. Like the old man who …
So, one day I’m pedaling down Broadway, having just missed the #20 at City College Trolley Stop. Had my iPod on, listening to Hendrix at ear-splitting volume. The entirety of his Woodstock set. Since a bus had narrowly avoided turning me into road kill, I got on the sidewalk and rode the Trusty Trek.
Now, when Downtown — everywhere actually — I obey the traffic signals. In any physical confrontation, be it with motor vehicle, bicycle or pedestrian, I lose. Just a simple fact of life. Getting knocked off one’s bicycle hurts and there could be damage to the Trusty Trek. So, I obey the signs and signals.As I’m waiting for the walk light to come on so’s I can cross 3rd Street to get to the bus stop, an old man — THEE OLD MAN — starts talking to me. Can’t hear a word he’s saying ’cause I’m listening to Hendrix; “Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)” to be exact, the enormous jam that leads into the “Star Spangled Banner.”
The old man has a look of serious concern on his face so I pull the left ear plug from my ear so’s I can hear what he’s saying and still listen to Hendrix.
Jimi was a genius, but I’m still on the fence about whether or not he was/is the greatest guitarist ever. Any comments or feedback would be appreciated.
The old man could be a tourist, lost and unable to find his way back to Horton Plaza. He was dressed like a tourist; Hell, most old men always dress like tourists. Be that as it may, I figured giving the old man directions back to the downtown mall, or his hotel, the senior center or wherever he was hoping to go, would be the Christian thing to do, even though I’m not a Christian.
Let’s be honest: I slag religion, and Christianity in particular, on a regular basis, but even I have to admit there are some decent principles of common decency and respect contained in those Holy Tomes.
“What,” I ask the old man?
He launches into a harangue about me riding my Trusty Trek on the sidewalks! WTF! He interrupted Hendrix to bitch about me riding my Trusty Trek on the sidewalks? “No other city in America do they ride their bikes on the sidewalks,” Old Man says.
“Every fuckin’ city in America they ride their bikes on the sidewalks,” I says!
“Not in Chicago,” Old Man replies!
“Especially fuckin’ Chicago,” I retort!
My “F” word use was in high form that day.
“No they don’t,” he yells! “They use bike paths and bike lanes!”
I stopped for a moment, stunned. Yeah, it happens, I’m occasionally struck speechless.
Old Man is looking at me during the moment of silence, almost proud that he —hopefully — has won the debate. Looking around Broadway and Third Streets, I looked back at Old Man, the incredulity about to burst the skin off my face, and I yelled, “DO YOU SEE ANY FUCKIN’ BIKE PATHS OR BIKE LANES ON ANY OF THESE FUCKIN’ STREETS? YOU ILL-MANNERED FUCKING MORON!”
Then the walk light came on, I put the ear piece back in, restarted “Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)” and crossed the street to wait for the #20. Had to get to work that day. In fact, I was late. I missed the #20 that would have got me to work on time. Such is life.So, anyway, I wait for the #20 at 3rd and Broadway, usually there between 9 and 10 a.m. if you’d like to enjoy the traffic with me. The pedestrian traffic in particular. There’s an over-priced coffee cart with over-priced Danish in the square next to the TV Station. We can get something.
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