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Sunday, November 6, 2005
The shoe-leather commute
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I walked out the front door at 8:40 a.m., headed due west on Edgewood, and reached my desk at 9:20. That includes a stop for coffee at Javaology. It’s a great place, but it doesn’t have parking. That’s why I hadn’t stopped before.
It was a mostly pleasant stroll, great weather, sunny and temp in the ‘60s — only two flirtatious come-ons and one panhandler. It’s amazing the things you notice when you’re walking, like the Sisters of the Nile Moorish Barber Shop and Hair Salon. (When I want a Moorish hair cut, I’ll check them out.)
If I keep this up all week, maybe I will have burned off enough calories to allow myself my favorite indulgence — Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup.
(Posted Sunday night, based on last Friday’s shoe-leather commute.)
Permalink | Comments (45) | Categories: Cynthia Tucker
MARTA is dead to me
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I get off of I-85 north and go to the College Park station. There’s no college and no parking. I drive up Main Street to East Point and find a space that only seems to be miles from the turnstiles. The token machines won’t accept my five, which is so crisp that I might have made it in the basement this morning. I miss an inbound train while the machines swallow and then regurgitate my five. Damn.
On board, I just want to read the paper but five people are talking simultaneously on their cells. Well. Four. One guy just laughs into his phone for five straight minutes. It isn’t unpleasant, just kind of weird. I find myself speculating about who’s on the other end. Maybe nobody. Maybe Robin Williams.The five voices eventually weave into one low buzz, and I tune it out, dropping back into the morning paper.
I’m reading for 10 seconds before the woman directly behind me begins to hum. I fold the paper again, thinking I’m pretty sure I’m in a hum-free zone. But I realize: This woman can really hum. She is the Hummer of hummers. I don’t know the tune, but I am sorry when, at the next station, she gets off and takes her song with her.
(Posted Sunday night, based on last Friday’s commute.)
Permalink | Comments (6) | Categories: Richard Halicks
MARTA is my life
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He is mute but still preaches on the MARTA rail platform, wearing Army fatigues and waving a Bible over his head. He makes only sounds, not words, but we all get the point.
And there is the elderly woman who wears sandwich board signs about Jesus and the scriptures. She is constantly on the lookout for teenage girls on the train using foul language or being inappropriately dressed. She unleashes a harsh sermon. Sometimes they are foolish enough to argue back, but never once have I seen anyone get the best of this passionate preacher.
And there is the tube-sock salesman who accepts cash, checks or even food stamps. Sometimes there are men selling boot-legged first-run movies. And I have even seen impromptu gambling where you can plop down a little money on a quick card game between stops.
This is the richness of MARTA, which I have taken to work safely for 18 years or so, reading hundreds of books on the way while glancing up to enjoy the real-life characters of the trains who shield me from the blandness of highways and the blather of talk radio.
Permalink | Comments (22) | Categories: David Beasley
