A Sluggish Morning

This morning I can only  describe the trolley as lethargic. Even the trolley itself seemed sluggish as it chugged along. Hardly anybody got on or off but sat there in a half asleep daze looking out the window, at their feet, or in some cases the back of their eyelids. My brother was the only person I saw reading. Everybody else hardly exuded enough energy to do anything but sit there and breathe. Of course I can't blame them because I was feeling the same way. It was morning and it was not sunny.

It's still not sunny even now as I am riding the trolley home. Despite the gloom outside there is a flurry of activity on the trolley. Across from me a woman is holding a giant salvation army bag on her lap. She is wearing a tarnished gold ring on her left ring finger. There are three diamonds, or what appear to be diamonds, except one is missing leaving a gaping hole next to the big diamond in the middle. Her black hair is long and wild and her lips look swollen. She talks to her friend who is sitting next to her. As we arrive at her stop her friend motions for them to exit and she heaves her big bag up and leaves.

Transferring at old town is the same experience as always. More people seem to walking around in the trolley than usual even though there are a lot of open seats. One rather tall man is sitting down and he is wearing a piece of cloth on his head and it is tied in the back. The excess of the cloth reaches about halfway down his back. He is wearing black pajama bottoms and white basketball shoes that are splattered with blue paint. He is wearing a gray t-shirt. He is clean shaven and his skin is smooth but his eyes... There is no white in them because they are pink where it should be white. There is sadness etched in his features and he mumbles to himself and talks to whoever will listen. He nods to the man across from him who he had been talking to and he exits the trolley. It is quiet on the trolley now that he is gone and nobody is talking. I look around at all the silent people and nobody says a word.

It is my stop now so until next time,
Alana

Everybody has a story

I caught the trolley with less than a minute to spare. I seem to be doing that lately. At least the trolley wasn't early today otherwise I would have been waiting until the 9am trolley to come along and I would be late. But that didn't happen. I was on time and tired already. The people around me seemed to be just as tired. I looked around at the quiet people and it got me thinking. What is their story? Everybody has a story so what is theirs? I wondered whether some of them had even been asked before.

A man sat on the other end of the trolley car and he was holding a small child that looked very tired. The man looked outside with an upset look on his face almost like he had sacrificed something to be where he was. He only cheered up when the child woke up and pointed to the planes and airport as the trolley drove on.

An old man sat a few booths down from me. He looked around with a somewhat dazed expression on his face. Over his left eye he wore a big white bandage. As he looked around and then out the window he gripped onto his seat.

A woman sitting across the walkway from me was wearing a baggy sweatshirt with her hood up. One of her knees were bouncing and she kept her head down. When she looked up for a moment I saw that her sad eyes were red.

A young man boarded the trolley and he sat down in an empty booth. He put one foot on the bench opposite of him and put his face in his hands. He stayed like that for a moment and then rubbed his face. He ran his fingers through his really short hair and then looked out the window.

As I got off the trolley to go to class I wondered about the people I saw and what their stories were. I wondered what they were going through and what brought them on the trolley.

On my way home it was crowded as usual and I sat across from a young man and young woman. I wondered about the young woman. Her hair was dark with small streaks of color randomly placed and she was wearing light blue eyeshadow. She looked almost unhealthy skinny which I wouldn't have guessed from her face but she was wearing shorts and her legs were very thin. She talked with the guy about different things, including college classes and then she admitted that she was only 16. She said that she had tested out of high school and was taking college courses. I was surprised but I didn't want to show that I had heard her. When I transferred at Old Town I got to thinking more about people's stories. We all know so little about each other and yet the riders of the trolley share the common space on the trolley as they go to their destination. I suppose the whole idea of this entry is that you never know who you may be sitting next to on the trolley and everybody has a unique story.

Until the next ride,
Alana

Crowded

Once again the trolley was crowded when I boarded after class. It wasn't as bad as it usually is though. I saw a man with thick dreadlocks and they looked Pretty cool. A woman was sitting across from him and they struck up a conversation. At 5th avenue a woman boarded and sat in the same booth. I saw her eyes darting to his hair and then back to the ground. She did that several more times which seemed like she was just trying not to get caught looking at him. I couldn't see his face so I have no idea if he caught her or not.

I decided to ride without music. It was strange and noisy but it was interesting to hear people talking. A few people are talking loudly on their cell phones. One man was talking so loud it was hard to concentrate. The next stop announcements were also very loud. Perhaps my ears are just being sensitive. I'm afraid to talk now for fear of yelling.

When I transferred at Old Town I believe the new trolley was more crowded. Usually it's not packed with almost twice as many people. It was a strange ride, though, because it went by so quickly.

Until next time,
Alana

The Trolley at Night

When I tell people that I ride the trolley at night they are suddenly concerned for me. I always say it's fine but some don't believe me. I will say, though, that there are quite some interesting people on the trolley at night. Some people are tired and just want to go home others look like they are just riding to get out of night's chilly air. Maybe they just want to get off the unforgiving streets where the wind is funneled between the tall buildings.

On a typical Tuesday night the trolley is almost empty and quiet. Passengers nod off, listen to music, read, sit quietly to themselves or even sleep. At the transfer station people exit the trolley like zombies and slowly, dragging their feet, walk over to the trolley they are transferring to.

On a Tuesday where an event is taking place people are stuffed into the trolley with standing room only. People talk loud and drink and laugh because they are all excited and having a good time. There is an obvious difference between those going out to have fun and those just wanting to go home or are on their way to work or school. Those people are quiet and watching the party people make a fool of themselves or are just being loud.

Tonight there is no event but the trolley is not empty. People are casually sitting in booths talking to other people and laughing. It must be too early for the undead to surface. I mean it is an hour earlier than when I usually ride the trolley. Maybe the zombies have not awaken yet.

The trolley seems more jerky than normal. Perhaps it was because it was an old trolley car. There was a new car to transfer to at Old Town. It is much more smooth.

It is sad to look around the trolley at night. There are signs of much use on the ground. Across from me empty sunflower seeds are strewn about on the ground. Small papers slide into openings, corners, and walkways. There is even a piece of clear, plastic silverware broken on the ground. Plastic bottles, cans, and cups litter the ground especially under seats. It makes me sad that people would just throw their trash on the ground when there is bound to be a trash can around when they get off. One item that is always present is the crumpled newspaper that may even be torn up. So many use the trolley on a regular basis and it makes me wonder if they are part of this litter problem.

After transferring those who did have energy slowly seemed to lose it as we waited for the trolley to go. It always seems like an eternity has gone by with how long it takes to resume. At night the trolley doesn't leave and arrive nearly as much. Every thirty minutes. Don't miss it or you will watch an eternity pass by as you wait in the cold night air.

When the trolley leaves I feel the jubilation but don't see it because those around me are becoming quiet. I think they might be becoming the zombies I usually see. False alarm! With the moving of the trolley they snap out of their trance and are alive again. They are alive but tired from the day's events whatever it may have been for them. I am tired too. The gentle rocking of the trolley could easily put a person to sleep. I am lucky to have this blog or I may have fallen victim to the power of the trolley at night.

Until the next ride,
Alana

Five scenarios

Whenever I go to get on the trolley I wonder what I am going to do to pass the time. Should I observe the people, meet somebody new, look out the window, do homework, or maybe even write in one of my stories? There are so many different things to do every day. There are so many things that need to be done so how should I use the thirty minutes it takes to get to my stop?

First scenario... observation
I look around and notice a person has a thumb brace but uses that hand to walk with his cane. I can only imagine how hard that would be to do without the use of a thumb. I then look around again and see a person standing in the back of the trolley car even though there are plenty of open seats and he has been there for several stops. I wonder why he chooses to stand when he can sit. This is where I make an observation that most people will choose to sit instead of stand even if they get off a stop after they get on. Is it laziness? It could be...

Second scenario... meet somebody new
I could turn in any direction in the trolley and meet somebody new. It is probable that I have never even seen them before. I could easily take off my headphones and say hello. It's the word that starts it all. Hello, what is your story on the trolley today? I could tell the man with the cane (who, by the way, looks young to be needing a cane) that he has a nice cane and that I really like the dark wood. I could talk to the lonely looking woman with the shopping bags. I think I will say hello to the man sitting across from me wearing the scrubs. He looks tired. His name is Peter. He was very nice and pleasant to talk to. He is on his way to work from school. He wants to be a doctor so he can help people. He wants to help people everywhere and I think that is a great want.

Third scenario... looking out the window
Looking out the window is always nice. There is a lot of nature within the city landscape. Yes even in a big city like San Diego there is nature strewn about. In downtown where there are big buildings and streets and cars, birds fly through the air. They make their nests any place there is room. As the trolley leaves downtown there are more trees and plants and even more birds. As the trolley continues there is the river. Today the river is pretty on the surface. Ducks float on the top of the water like black bouys. Under the surface the pollution makes the river dirty. Random articles of clothing and other materials line the edge of the river. The items are caught in the brush and plants that grow all around. People walk and jog along the paths in exercise clothes and they swing their arms as they walk fast or jog. They don't look at the river or the flowers that grow along the path. They stay focused and look straight ahead.

Fourth scenario... homework
I read the piece Lullaby for my American literature class and think about what we had discussed in class. What did that sentence mean again? Oh yes I remember now that the main character's memories are linked to the landscape. At the end what does the freezing mean? Her husband is dying after a long life.... would that be a good thing to talk about for a paper? I think about all the options I have for my papers in my classes. My attention is drawn away by each stop of the trolley. How far has it gone? I don't want to miss my stop. when I have an idea for my paper I put my book away.

Fifth scenario... writing in a story
I take out my binder and my paper and pencil seem to fuse together as I write. With each jerk of the trolley my pencil jumps across the page. I look around for an idea. I need inspiration for a secondary character. There it is! A man who is wearing a white button down shirt and striped shorts. He is wearing white socks reaching half way up his calves and his sneakers are looking worn down. His blonde hair is messy and he has a soul patch. He can be the cool musician who has some odd quirks. As I write down the idea and start to describe him in the story another bump comes along causing my pencil to jump across the page. Only one stop away from home. Time to put my stuff away.

All the scenarios end in the same way. I will exit the trolley at my stop and walk to where I live. Everybody does something different with their time. I have observed them over the course of riding the trolley which provides much to write about and much to reflect with. One thing the trolley is especially great for is time to think. If riding the trolley, great reflection can be done about whatever is thought about. Of course such thinking is not required to ride only a ticket and perhaps a destination.

Until the next ride,
Alana