A day.
12:52: I am currently at the Hayward BART/Greyhound station, half-heartedly waiting for a Greyhound bus that was supposed to be here almost 2 hours ago. This is only the most recent in a series of terrible events. I planned today to take the 1:42 bus from Gonzaga to the Spokane transit plaza, and then the 2:05 to the airport, to get me there in plenty of time for my flight. I just barely got the bus, after having left the dorm at 1:39. The buses were 2 dollars in total, much better than the 25 dollars that the taxi would have cost. So i was in high spirits, but these are always dampened by the harried atmosphere of airports. I was graciously allowed to go ahead of a huge group of girls excited to go to Hawaii in the bag checking/boarding pass-acquisition line. Pass in hand, I waddled my way through security, losing my pocketknife (which i had neglected to remember to place in my checked bag) in the process. Oh well; no harm, no foul. I should have remembered.
I waited for the plane; it was scheduled for 4:05 but had already been pushed back to 4:15 by the time i checked in. as 4:00 rolled around, it became apparent it would be a little later. by 4;35, however, we were lined up and ready to board. I was near the end, of course, and so i filed in with the rest of them and found a nice aisle seat in the back. We sat and we waited. The lights flickered a bit more than usual. By about 5:30 we were told to deplane (boss, deplane!); the indicator light which would tell the pilots if anything was wrong with the electricity wasn't working, and new parts were needed. They would look for a new plane; it should take "about an hour."
Well, they probably found it in about an hour. But it was about an hour and a half before we would be scheduled to board it, and a half hour after that before we were ready to finally take off. A 7:30, though, we were definitively in the air and on the way south. By this point i had become well aware that my original plans to get from oakland to santa cruz were in peril; the last highway 17 express leaves san jose at 10:40, and i would no longer be able to get there at that time. so with some quick rescheduling with the help of Laura and some 4-dollar-for-15-minutes internet I decided i'd chance a greyhound instead. I had no ticket, of course, but it was the on;ly option outside of a soon-to-be-very wealthy taxi driver. It would mean taking the BART from Oakland to Hayward and getting the bus there at 11.
At first, if you can believe it, i scoffed at this time, thinking it so very within my abilities as to constitute an almost uncomfortably long wait.
We landed at 9:20. I had presciently sat in the front of the plane this time, that i might escape early, and so i got off at about 9:30. The only obstacle then remaining was the retrieval of my checked bag. I strolled to the carousels and called my father, reporting my imminent success.
Then i waited. I waited until 10:20, along with the rest of my flight, in vain. I never saw my bag, but it was no longer an option to hang around if i was to catch the 11:00 Greyhound. So, cursing Southwest under my breath, I jogged to the AirBART, paid the fare in the last 3 dollars of change i had on me, and started the internal cheerleading to just get there already. We arrived at the Oakland BART station and after some confusion, which was cleared up by a man who spoke almost no english, and none with plosives, found the right train. It would get me to hayward at 10:54. I cheered it on as well, and it did not disappoint.
Armed with only an address and a general distance from the BART station, i quickly surveyed the alien landscape around me in search of this mythical Greyhound which would deliver me very nearly to my front door. I found its station with zero minutes to spare (and agan with the guidance of fair Laura), and then remembered my lack of a ticket. Unlike certain rapid transit systems, greyhound insists that you buy tickets in person or online; there are no automated dispensers. They station was of course closed. My only hope was that they would take cash at the door; this was a hope somewhat restricted by the fact that i had none. So i skittered back to the bart station to ask if they knew the greyhound's policies on buying tickets on the spot, which went essentially unanswered, and also if they could direct me to the nearest ATM. They could. and did, and it was a few blocks away at a Lucky's. I ran, encumbered by my two more important pieces of luggage (laptop and backpack), momentarily grateful that i didn't end up getting my larged checked bag at the last minute, and quickly bought a bottle of water, getting forty dollars back as well. I ran back, bust stopped when i noticed a trio of older women still waiting for the bus. I checked my watch: 11:06. Oh well. the waiting game is one i'm fairly good at. By 11:30, the leader of the older women was taking every opportunity to remark upon how strange it was that the bus hadn't yet come. I couldn't help but agree, in a despondent sort of way. I called the posted number, which gave very little useful information, but did list cancelled buses; ours was not among them. I was even able to get online on someone's wireless, which allowed me a brief moment of email checking and the like; I thought that perhaps i would buy a ticket right there online, but of course by that time they thought it should be impossible to purchase a ticket for something that should already have left. In any case, i decided it was time tio stop brandishing my laptop, and continued pacing and waiting. This continued for an hour, after which i essentially made up my mind to just take the bart back to millbrae, caltrain to diridon, and then highway 17 in the morning. But BARTs had stopped running and would not resume until 4 in the morning. So i returned, defeated, to the relative comfort of benches with the older women and another would-be traveler, and (after being accosted by one fellow who was worried that he was out past his probation curfew and needed a cell phone, and another who was upset that his Social Security, which is normally direct-deposited at midnight on the first of the month, had not been, leaving him stranded) started writing this. It is now 1:34. and time to perhaps relocate, as during my writing i have been left alone on a frigid Hayward bench.
2:46: I found a tree with power, so I can write some more and charge the ipod as well. I decided I was tired and didn't want to do nothing while I waited for the barts, and perhaps get a little sleep for the day tomorrow (which will be no great picnic). Also I was getting pretty cold. Fortunately, my clothes were all in my backpack, so one t-shirt went on my head, and another kept my hands company. Soon enough, a third went right where t-shirts should go. I found an out-of-the-way spot near the BART doors that I hypothesized would keep me out of the view of any potential hoodlums while also affording me a level of publicity if anything did "go down." Wrapping my arms through straps of my bags, I set my cell phone alarm for 4 am and closed my eyes at 1:44,
Fifteen minutes later, i had convinced myself that I had no real desire to sleep and that i also had things to do. I realized that on my way back on the BART, i could stop by the airport-- a 6-dollar and probably half-hour detour-- and retrieve my last bag. This would probably be preferable to however they might attempt to get it to me (expensive fedexing? requiring a physical pickup?), and i wouldn't have to worry about it any more. Plus, transportation in the morning is always plentiful, and I just have to be on campus by 10:30 for a meeting, which could even be skipped if need be. So a 4:something departure from hayward, a ~4:30 arrival at oakland again, airbart for 10 minutes, fetching for ten minutes, and airbart back for ten more minutes, and then on to millbrae should still leave me more than enough time to get home, enjoy a shower, and bestow undeserved praise on myself for a bit. Of course this hasn't been a journey of great punctuality, but I'm playin the odds.
Anyhoo, to effect this detour, I will need 6 dollars in cash. So I decided to go back to Lucky's to buy something inconsequential-- breakfast?--and then get some change as well. Lucky's was closed. They did, however, feature an inviting-looking stairwell, which, it turned out, gave access to the upper-story parking lot. Before that, though, it gave access to someone's forgotten bag of Panda Express food and a shielded area. Inquisitive adventurer that I am, i took a gander; this resulted in me also eventually taking parts of a cow, broccoli plant, chicken, rice, and an unopened fortune cookie. The fortune reads, "CHEERFUL COMPANY AND A MERRY TIME ARE AHEAD FOR YOU". I was under the impression that i had just come from all that into just the opposite, but perhaps it was meant for the person who bought the food in the first place. I continued, then, to a 76 station across the way, where I made a purchase through bulletproof glass and a metal drawer. I got beef jerky; the concept of splurging on a normally too-rich-for-my-blood item during my night of hobo-eroticism was too juicy (unlike the jerky itself)- to ignore. I also got my dollars in change, of course, and then went back to Lucky's and its shielded stairwell to regroup. It was then that I had most of the food (the first time I had only had a piece of broccoli and the fortune cookie). I re-tied my t-shirt doo-rag and set off to find somewhere to set up this, my lovely lappy. My powers of observation were tested to the limit as I explored this semi-main street in search of an exposed outlet. None in the Lucky's parking lot-to-ground floor elevator, though it was quite warm and probably wouldn't be used by anyone else till nearly 5 am; i filed this information away in case I needed warmth or privacy at some point. No outlet in the parking lot, though no surprise there. The trees on B Street all seem to have something the size of an outlet, but they are shielded by some manner of plastic that I hadn't the wherewithal to defeat. ACE Hardware had an outlet on their facade; however, it did not provide any power. Newman Park seemed designed more for chess players than yuppies and their lappies. Upper B Street was populated; I chose that moment to cross the street and double back to check the other side of the street. No more facades seemed to feature an outlet, not even non-functional ones, which i found sort of strange. Trees continued to tempt me with blank plastic should-be-outlets, until I found this one. Irma, i call her. She is a pretty tree, and someone has noticed this; to really bring out her prettiness, she has been outfitted with christmas lights. She is the only one on the street so adorned. To facilitate this apparel, the box had been unshielded and the outlets exposed. I used the remaining one to plug in Zsolt here, and then Xavier into him (lappy and iPod). It is now 3:09. Less than an hour remains before loitering in front of the BART may no longer seem fruitless.
I feel like the richest street person ever. This would be true even if i were naked and possessionless, for I have yet to see one clearly identifiable street person here. Bus stations always have their share of ne'er do-wells, but they were all on the move. I did see one silhouette in the distance in the courtyard of City Hall, but was too far removed to resolve the question entirely; i did, however, notice no backpack or plastic bag or shopping cart. Nonetheless, the image of a college kid wearing clothes in silly places (by this point, to facilitate prehensility, i had enveloped one hand in a couple of socks, while the other was wrapped in shirt) on a laptop sitting on the sidewalk, his gadgets plugged into a tree at 3 in the morning in Hayward, is one which I shall treasure always. It is also one which causes me to wonder about the reaction of the Hayward Police to it. Would they be so entranced by its essential beauty? One would like to think so.
3:24: the creepiness with which people can be perfectly nice astounds me.
5:29: I am now waiting at the Oakland airport. deja vu all over again?
yes. I'm even at the same table I waited a week ago for the plane to spokane.
So i went back to the elevator to take in its warmth, then sauntered on back to the BART station (this time i did see a bona fide street person; she fixed her elegant gaze on me with great apparent difficulty, and remarked in that casually aggressive way she has, "'s fuckin cold.") . First one in the gates, snagged a schedule booklet so i'd feel prepared, then waited for the first northbound train. It came promptly at 4:14, all went well, I got off at the Coliseum at 4:30 and was ready for an AirBART!... except they don't start till 5. So i waited till 5, took a newspaper (for which i was later accosted and charged a whole quarter) from the stack outside of the door, and then waited a few minutes longer for the bus to actually appear. Got on with a bunch of other grumpy early-morning travelers, and then arrived at the airport. 5:23 I ask the fellows when the baggage place open. They reply 6, maybe 6:30. They don't know. I have to hope the former or at least the latter. If 6:30 comes round and no baggage forthcomes, I gotta get out of Dodge.
Anyway, in this little pathetic overpriced cafe I bought an appallingly-reasonably-priced hot chocolate and am now whiling away the desperate minutes during which by all rights i should be sleeping and not hoping to acquire my own bag.
Thus far: Bus from gonzaga to spokane airport: 2 dollars
Extra Quiznos sandwich to cover extra time waiting in airport: 8 dollars
airbart: 3 dollars once, twice, and soon to be a third time
BART: 2.15 once and twice, and 4.65 in the hopefully-near future.
Bottle of aquafina to get 20s for phantom greyhound: 1.74, i think
bag of beef jerky to split 20 into 1s for non-phantom airbart : 2.99
.25 for being one of the first readers of the Chronicle today. Weak plot, too many characters.
Caltrain remains to be seen
Highway 17: 3.50 or something
And so the aborted attempt to get home has thus far cost me slightly less extra than i saved by taking the bus initially instead of a taxi. Hurray! It must be that Mercury simply wishes me to spend a set amount on travel before I am allowed home. I shoulda taken the taxi.
7:36: So far mostly on schedule. Got my bag even before 6; five baggage folk were waiting there just for me, and i realized only after telling it that my story was meaningless to them. I showed id, i got my bag, i rushed to the airbart, and then it sat there for 15 minutes before she decided to just take me and the one other guy. Back at the real Bart station, i shared the news of my triumph with the man who extorted 25 cents for a newspaper, and then was off to the 6:23 bart to daly city. got there right on time, switched to the millbrae train right on time, and got there right on time also; got the caltrain ticket, oriented myself, and got the train right on time: 7:32. All that remains now is to notice when we're at Diridon (should be 8:13) and then get a 17 to take me back hoommmmme finally and with maybe some time for cleanup. I semi-slept a bit from Oakland to Daly City, but am essentially running on fumes. although! I have some more jerky left over. Yum time. I am eyeing the fellow to my right, whose side of the train has a sexy-lookin outlet. But at this point I think i can ration remaining gadget power till the end.
8:27: Ahh... finally on the lovely Highway 17 Express, and only 11 hours after I had intended to be. Spirits are high, however. My day's mood is once more dependent on the outcome of the first LGST senior seminar class at 2; I'm not registered because it's full but I need it to graduate, so I can only hope that the prof will find it in his soul to allow my presence. As far as traveling goes, though, barring any ridiculous unforseen circumstances, I am in the clear and very nearly home with what looks like a comfortable time period to spare before the beginning of what, for me, is really only the epilogue of this adventurous day.
the end!
epilogue: I arrived home at 9:30; classes all went well, and i'm in the important senior seminar, but a drop of this computer while getting off of the 17 has borked some of the display. it's all under warranty, but what a bitch.
I waited for the plane; it was scheduled for 4:05 but had already been pushed back to 4:15 by the time i checked in. as 4:00 rolled around, it became apparent it would be a little later. by 4;35, however, we were lined up and ready to board. I was near the end, of course, and so i filed in with the rest of them and found a nice aisle seat in the back. We sat and we waited. The lights flickered a bit more than usual. By about 5:30 we were told to deplane (boss, deplane!); the indicator light which would tell the pilots if anything was wrong with the electricity wasn't working, and new parts were needed. They would look for a new plane; it should take "about an hour."
Well, they probably found it in about an hour. But it was about an hour and a half before we would be scheduled to board it, and a half hour after that before we were ready to finally take off. A 7:30, though, we were definitively in the air and on the way south. By this point i had become well aware that my original plans to get from oakland to santa cruz were in peril; the last highway 17 express leaves san jose at 10:40, and i would no longer be able to get there at that time. so with some quick rescheduling with the help of Laura and some 4-dollar-for-15-minutes internet I decided i'd chance a greyhound instead. I had no ticket, of course, but it was the on;ly option outside of a soon-to-be-very wealthy taxi driver. It would mean taking the BART from Oakland to Hayward and getting the bus there at 11.
At first, if you can believe it, i scoffed at this time, thinking it so very within my abilities as to constitute an almost uncomfortably long wait.
We landed at 9:20. I had presciently sat in the front of the plane this time, that i might escape early, and so i got off at about 9:30. The only obstacle then remaining was the retrieval of my checked bag. I strolled to the carousels and called my father, reporting my imminent success.
Then i waited. I waited until 10:20, along with the rest of my flight, in vain. I never saw my bag, but it was no longer an option to hang around if i was to catch the 11:00 Greyhound. So, cursing Southwest under my breath, I jogged to the AirBART, paid the fare in the last 3 dollars of change i had on me, and started the internal cheerleading to just get there already. We arrived at the Oakland BART station and after some confusion, which was cleared up by a man who spoke almost no english, and none with plosives, found the right train. It would get me to hayward at 10:54. I cheered it on as well, and it did not disappoint.
Armed with only an address and a general distance from the BART station, i quickly surveyed the alien landscape around me in search of this mythical Greyhound which would deliver me very nearly to my front door. I found its station with zero minutes to spare (and agan with the guidance of fair Laura), and then remembered my lack of a ticket. Unlike certain rapid transit systems, greyhound insists that you buy tickets in person or online; there are no automated dispensers. They station was of course closed. My only hope was that they would take cash at the door; this was a hope somewhat restricted by the fact that i had none. So i skittered back to the bart station to ask if they knew the greyhound's policies on buying tickets on the spot, which went essentially unanswered, and also if they could direct me to the nearest ATM. They could. and did, and it was a few blocks away at a Lucky's. I ran, encumbered by my two more important pieces of luggage (laptop and backpack), momentarily grateful that i didn't end up getting my larged checked bag at the last minute, and quickly bought a bottle of water, getting forty dollars back as well. I ran back, bust stopped when i noticed a trio of older women still waiting for the bus. I checked my watch: 11:06. Oh well. the waiting game is one i'm fairly good at. By 11:30, the leader of the older women was taking every opportunity to remark upon how strange it was that the bus hadn't yet come. I couldn't help but agree, in a despondent sort of way. I called the posted number, which gave very little useful information, but did list cancelled buses; ours was not among them. I was even able to get online on someone's wireless, which allowed me a brief moment of email checking and the like; I thought that perhaps i would buy a ticket right there online, but of course by that time they thought it should be impossible to purchase a ticket for something that should already have left. In any case, i decided it was time tio stop brandishing my laptop, and continued pacing and waiting. This continued for an hour, after which i essentially made up my mind to just take the bart back to millbrae, caltrain to diridon, and then highway 17 in the morning. But BARTs had stopped running and would not resume until 4 in the morning. So i returned, defeated, to the relative comfort of benches with the older women and another would-be traveler, and (after being accosted by one fellow who was worried that he was out past his probation curfew and needed a cell phone, and another who was upset that his Social Security, which is normally direct-deposited at midnight on the first of the month, had not been, leaving him stranded) started writing this. It is now 1:34. and time to perhaps relocate, as during my writing i have been left alone on a frigid Hayward bench.
2:46: I found a tree with power, so I can write some more and charge the ipod as well. I decided I was tired and didn't want to do nothing while I waited for the barts, and perhaps get a little sleep for the day tomorrow (which will be no great picnic). Also I was getting pretty cold. Fortunately, my clothes were all in my backpack, so one t-shirt went on my head, and another kept my hands company. Soon enough, a third went right where t-shirts should go. I found an out-of-the-way spot near the BART doors that I hypothesized would keep me out of the view of any potential hoodlums while also affording me a level of publicity if anything did "go down." Wrapping my arms through straps of my bags, I set my cell phone alarm for 4 am and closed my eyes at 1:44,
Fifteen minutes later, i had convinced myself that I had no real desire to sleep and that i also had things to do. I realized that on my way back on the BART, i could stop by the airport-- a 6-dollar and probably half-hour detour-- and retrieve my last bag. This would probably be preferable to however they might attempt to get it to me (expensive fedexing? requiring a physical pickup?), and i wouldn't have to worry about it any more. Plus, transportation in the morning is always plentiful, and I just have to be on campus by 10:30 for a meeting, which could even be skipped if need be. So a 4:something departure from hayward, a ~4:30 arrival at oakland again, airbart for 10 minutes, fetching for ten minutes, and airbart back for ten more minutes, and then on to millbrae should still leave me more than enough time to get home, enjoy a shower, and bestow undeserved praise on myself for a bit. Of course this hasn't been a journey of great punctuality, but I'm playin the odds.
Anyhoo, to effect this detour, I will need 6 dollars in cash. So I decided to go back to Lucky's to buy something inconsequential-- breakfast?--and then get some change as well. Lucky's was closed. They did, however, feature an inviting-looking stairwell, which, it turned out, gave access to the upper-story parking lot. Before that, though, it gave access to someone's forgotten bag of Panda Express food and a shielded area. Inquisitive adventurer that I am, i took a gander; this resulted in me also eventually taking parts of a cow, broccoli plant, chicken, rice, and an unopened fortune cookie. The fortune reads, "CHEERFUL COMPANY AND A MERRY TIME ARE AHEAD FOR YOU". I was under the impression that i had just come from all that into just the opposite, but perhaps it was meant for the person who bought the food in the first place. I continued, then, to a 76 station across the way, where I made a purchase through bulletproof glass and a metal drawer. I got beef jerky; the concept of splurging on a normally too-rich-for-my-blood item during my night of hobo-eroticism was too juicy (unlike the jerky itself)- to ignore. I also got my dollars in change, of course, and then went back to Lucky's and its shielded stairwell to regroup. It was then that I had most of the food (the first time I had only had a piece of broccoli and the fortune cookie). I re-tied my t-shirt doo-rag and set off to find somewhere to set up this, my lovely lappy. My powers of observation were tested to the limit as I explored this semi-main street in search of an exposed outlet. None in the Lucky's parking lot-to-ground floor elevator, though it was quite warm and probably wouldn't be used by anyone else till nearly 5 am; i filed this information away in case I needed warmth or privacy at some point. No outlet in the parking lot, though no surprise there. The trees on B Street all seem to have something the size of an outlet, but they are shielded by some manner of plastic that I hadn't the wherewithal to defeat. ACE Hardware had an outlet on their facade; however, it did not provide any power. Newman Park seemed designed more for chess players than yuppies and their lappies. Upper B Street was populated; I chose that moment to cross the street and double back to check the other side of the street. No more facades seemed to feature an outlet, not even non-functional ones, which i found sort of strange. Trees continued to tempt me with blank plastic should-be-outlets, until I found this one. Irma, i call her. She is a pretty tree, and someone has noticed this; to really bring out her prettiness, she has been outfitted with christmas lights. She is the only one on the street so adorned. To facilitate this apparel, the box had been unshielded and the outlets exposed. I used the remaining one to plug in Zsolt here, and then Xavier into him (lappy and iPod). It is now 3:09. Less than an hour remains before loitering in front of the BART may no longer seem fruitless.
I feel like the richest street person ever. This would be true even if i were naked and possessionless, for I have yet to see one clearly identifiable street person here. Bus stations always have their share of ne'er do-wells, but they were all on the move. I did see one silhouette in the distance in the courtyard of City Hall, but was too far removed to resolve the question entirely; i did, however, notice no backpack or plastic bag or shopping cart. Nonetheless, the image of a college kid wearing clothes in silly places (by this point, to facilitate prehensility, i had enveloped one hand in a couple of socks, while the other was wrapped in shirt) on a laptop sitting on the sidewalk, his gadgets plugged into a tree at 3 in the morning in Hayward, is one which I shall treasure always. It is also one which causes me to wonder about the reaction of the Hayward Police to it. Would they be so entranced by its essential beauty? One would like to think so.
3:24: the creepiness with which people can be perfectly nice astounds me.
5:29: I am now waiting at the Oakland airport. deja vu all over again?
yes. I'm even at the same table I waited a week ago for the plane to spokane.
So i went back to the elevator to take in its warmth, then sauntered on back to the BART station (this time i did see a bona fide street person; she fixed her elegant gaze on me with great apparent difficulty, and remarked in that casually aggressive way she has, "'s fuckin cold.") . First one in the gates, snagged a schedule booklet so i'd feel prepared, then waited for the first northbound train. It came promptly at 4:14, all went well, I got off at the Coliseum at 4:30 and was ready for an AirBART!... except they don't start till 5. So i waited till 5, took a newspaper (for which i was later accosted and charged a whole quarter) from the stack outside of the door, and then waited a few minutes longer for the bus to actually appear. Got on with a bunch of other grumpy early-morning travelers, and then arrived at the airport. 5:23 I ask the fellows when the baggage place open. They reply 6, maybe 6:30. They don't know. I have to hope the former or at least the latter. If 6:30 comes round and no baggage forthcomes, I gotta get out of Dodge.
Anyway, in this little pathetic overpriced cafe I bought an appallingly-reasonably-priced hot chocolate and am now whiling away the desperate minutes during which by all rights i should be sleeping and not hoping to acquire my own bag.
Thus far: Bus from gonzaga to spokane airport: 2 dollars
Extra Quiznos sandwich to cover extra time waiting in airport: 8 dollars
airbart: 3 dollars once, twice, and soon to be a third time
BART: 2.15 once and twice, and 4.65 in the hopefully-near future.
Bottle of aquafina to get 20s for phantom greyhound: 1.74, i think
bag of beef jerky to split 20 into 1s for non-phantom airbart : 2.99
.25 for being one of the first readers of the Chronicle today. Weak plot, too many characters.
Caltrain remains to be seen
Highway 17: 3.50 or something
And so the aborted attempt to get home has thus far cost me slightly less extra than i saved by taking the bus initially instead of a taxi. Hurray! It must be that Mercury simply wishes me to spend a set amount on travel before I am allowed home. I shoulda taken the taxi.
7:36: So far mostly on schedule. Got my bag even before 6; five baggage folk were waiting there just for me, and i realized only after telling it that my story was meaningless to them. I showed id, i got my bag, i rushed to the airbart, and then it sat there for 15 minutes before she decided to just take me and the one other guy. Back at the real Bart station, i shared the news of my triumph with the man who extorted 25 cents for a newspaper, and then was off to the 6:23 bart to daly city. got there right on time, switched to the millbrae train right on time, and got there right on time also; got the caltrain ticket, oriented myself, and got the train right on time: 7:32. All that remains now is to notice when we're at Diridon (should be 8:13) and then get a 17 to take me back hoommmmme finally and with maybe some time for cleanup. I semi-slept a bit from Oakland to Daly City, but am essentially running on fumes. although! I have some more jerky left over. Yum time. I am eyeing the fellow to my right, whose side of the train has a sexy-lookin outlet. But at this point I think i can ration remaining gadget power till the end.
8:27: Ahh... finally on the lovely Highway 17 Express, and only 11 hours after I had intended to be. Spirits are high, however. My day's mood is once more dependent on the outcome of the first LGST senior seminar class at 2; I'm not registered because it's full but I need it to graduate, so I can only hope that the prof will find it in his soul to allow my presence. As far as traveling goes, though, barring any ridiculous unforseen circumstances, I am in the clear and very nearly home with what looks like a comfortable time period to spare before the beginning of what, for me, is really only the epilogue of this adventurous day.
the end!
epilogue: I arrived home at 9:30; classes all went well, and i'm in the important senior seminar, but a drop of this computer while getting off of the 17 has borked some of the display. it's all under warranty, but what a bitch.