1.10.03

CalTrain

One day I woke up in San Jose. I was in an unoccupied dormroom unit in what is commonly called the I-House. Or if you're not into the brevity thing the International House. Please all you hecklers can just forget about 'of Pancakes' its been done to death. I don't live in San Jose or even in California so these circumstances were at least nominally unusual. I had been retrieved at the San Francisco airport the day before by my Russian liason and her American, truck owning, cohort who went by the name of Ben. I had brought two bags and my bicycle, which had to be disassembled and put in a box. We had 'partied' well into the night and I was feeling a touch of the old hang-over. Mouth felt like carpet somewhat shagged. This was the day in which I would reassemble my bike and head by my lonesome into the city of San Francisco to make a new life. I readied myself for my journey. I think it was Monday which is a bad omen in Russian superstition. Never begin anything on a Monday they say.
I readied myself in the common bathroom. I wished I had shower sandals. Common baths in dorms are breeding grounds for the most virulent fungal colonies known to man. I paired my belongings down to really only what I would need and stuffed all of that into one bag. One bag that I could carry on my back so I could ride my bike. I was a little nervous. While I readied myself my Russian liason had sorted out directions to the Caltrain station. The Caltrain runs from San Jose up the peninsula to San Francisco. I would have stayed in San Francisco proper to begin with but I did not have a contact there. No friend, no job, no place to stay. I was confident. I knew that within two weeks I would have that town by the tail. In two years it would have me by the tail. I would in fact have to knaw my tail off in order to escape.
I got my bag ready said my goodbyes to my Russian liason and the other friends I had made at the I-House and I hopped on my bike. Sometimes life is better when you're riding blind. And when you realize that, you come to the understanding that in truth you're always riding blind. No matter how much time and effort you put forth on thinking about, seeing into it, or just wondering what the future will be like, its almost always different. Not all divergences being equal that is. It was a sunny and fair day in silicon valley as often is the case. I mistakenly took this for a good omen. I rode past the University, into downtown, into bad neighborhoods and to the train station. Bike, check, bag, check, hopes and dreams, check.
My main point of anxiety at this juncture was the correct procedure for boarding the train with a bicycle. I didn't want to be spotted as an alien right away. That was the kind of thing I wanted to carefully unfurl in casual conversation.
"Hi whats your name?"
"Mine's Matthew, where you from?
"oh California you say, I'm from Texas," and so on and so forth.
I spotted another passenger waiting for the end of the line train with bicycle in tow. I decided to follow his lead. He went to the front car and put his bike in the obvious 'for bikes' spot. I struck up a conversation with this dude. He was a professional bicycle racer and he was just cruising around Cali on vaca. He made me feel small and unimportant, later I realized irt was just his skill at bravado. I would encounter many more human like this on my journey through Babylon.

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