The Trials (and Errors) of Traveling

Last Friday, I stood in the 100 degree heat. I was waiting for my taxi.

Not a very good beginning, but that's how it started.

I was on the side of Mills Avenue, the street that divides Pitzer and Scripps campuses. I chose this spot because it's the only street address I knew for Pitzer. 1050 N. Mills Ave., aka Pitzer admissions office, Smith Campus Center. I didn't intend to be there long, I had about ten minuets before my taxi was supposed to be there. The time was 2:20. My train left the station in Pomona at 3:10.

A little while later, I checked my watch. 2:40. My taxi was ten minuets late. I called the company, and no-one answered the phone. I started to panic. I dialed 411 on my phone, and was given the number for Claremont Yellow Cab. I called them, and explained that I had called ahead for a cab from another company, and it hadn't shown up. I was catching a train leaving at 3:10. I needed a cab as soon as possible.

"Oh, yeah, we got a cab near you, just wait a little, they'll come get ya."

It was hot out there. I had been saving my water bottle for the train, but I took a few sips in a futile effort to cool off. I was getting nervous. Where was my cab? I looked at my watch again. 2:50. Twenty minuets before my train left. I called the company again.

"Oh, looks like we've got a cab about 20 minuets away, they'll come get you"

I explained again that my train left in 20 minuets, that was too long, I would miss my train. I couldn't miss that train. The response was apathetic at best. I was told that this was they best they could do, so I was stuck.

I started to cry. Then I had an idea. I prayed it would work, that it wasn't too late. I called the 1-800 number for Amtrak. The woman I got on the phone was very understanding. "Oh, don't worry about it hon. Just you try and get yourself to Ontario. Now remember, that train leaves at 3:35. You've got about 45 minuets to catch it. Just you try and get yourself a cab." I thanked her profusely, and waited.

At 3:05 my cab came. I got in and said "Ontario Amtrak station, please."

The driver turned to look at me. "But I'm supposed to take you to Pomona."

I took a deep breath and explained that yes, he was supposed to take me to Pomona, but that train left in five minuets, so now I had to get to the next stop, which is Ontario, and it would be appreciated if we got there quickly.

He still looked puzzled. "But, Ontario's east 'a here. Pomona's west. It's the other way." I gave up, and just asked again that he get me to Ontario.

After a minuet or too, I told him that I was going to pay with credit card. He scowled. "We don't like no credit cards, miss. The company charges us somethin awful for them. It's like eight percent. Do you have an ATM card?" I said yes, it's a debit card. He shook his head. "No, I mean like, we stop at a bank and you go get me some cash."

Honestly, I was stunned. To be fair, I don't think he meant it to be as menacing as it sounded. I think the guy just wanted to be paid in cash, thank you very much. Still, this frightened me slightly. I made the excuse that there probably wasn't enough time. Which was true.

We pulled into the station at 3:20. I handed him my card and waited for him to process it. It seemed to take several minuets, but I'm sure it was maybe one or two. I was just frantic to get on that train, now that I'd made it. I got out of the cab, thanked him, and ran across the street to the platform.

At this point, I discovered another problem. Since I was originally leaving from Pomona, I didn't have an actual ticket. At the Pomona station, they have little ticket dispenser machines, and you key in your confirmation code to get your ticket. This was not the case here. There were no dispensers to be found.

I asked around, and learned that to leave from this station, you had to get your tickets mailed to you.

To put it bluntly, I didn't have a ticket.

The train pulled up. I was trying not to cry again. I just wanted to get on that train. The conductor got out, and started to direct people to the appropriate car for their destination. Mine was down near the end. I got to the door, where there was a gentleman checking tickets and assigning seats. I showed him my paper, with the confirmation code and started to explain- when he cut me off. "Seat 58 is open."

I entered the train and climbed the tiny little staircase. on the second level, there were about a hundred rows of seats. I looked for seat number 58, and found it. I sat down, and relaxed. I'd made it.

The train pulled out from the station.

A young man tapped on my shoulder.

"Excuse me miss, you're sitting in my seat." I looked around. "This is seat 58, isn't it?" "Yes, and it's mine." I got up, and stood in the aisle. Once again, a small catastrophe. Eventually, the man who had told me where to sit came up the steps and down the aisle. I got his attention, and explained. He looked confused, and consulted his chart.

"Oh, well, 56 should be open." he turned around, and looked at the seat in question. There was an elderly woman sitting in it. "Did you move?" he asked her, rather gruffly. She shook her head, and told him smugly that he himself had seated her there. He looked at his chart again, and started moving down the rows of seats. Finally, he found one that was unoccupied on his (somewhat dubious) chart, and in reality. I sat there. It was a window seat, and the seat next to me was empty. I sat for a few minuets and watched the dregs of civilisation float past my window.

The conductor came up, and started collecting tickets. When he got to me, I started to explain that I didn't have a ticket, but I did buy one and that my taxi... and then the other taxi... and I found out that the station... He laughed. "Oh, it's fine," he said, "your credit card is only used to hold the ticket anyway. Say, how much did they quote you for online?" I told him. "Really? Now that's a bit much. Here, you've had a tough day. How bouts I give it to you for 20 less?"

I thanked him profusely, an handed him my card. He gave me a ticket, marked the seat taken and moved on down the aisle.

I had made it.