Tag Archives: Chicago

127 Hours (and then some)

At some point, everyone takes a road trip. Sometimes, it’ll be something indulgent and last minute, like the time I got dragged to Vegas on two hours notice and had to sleep in the lobby once we got there, while my friend was in our hotel room with a hooker on Easter morning. Or it’ll be poorly planned, like last Valentine’s Day when a drive up the coast ended pulled over and huddled in a tent during a 40-degree rainstorm. But I think, to truly qualify as a “road trip story,” the story has to focus on what happens on the road rather than at the ultimate destination. In that case, there’s only one road trip story I know.

In the winter of 2009, I was preparing to move from New York to Los Angeles after landing my first job out of college. As with any entry-level job, the pay wasn’t very much, nor did it come with any relocation money. Seeing the predicament I was in, my dad came to me with an idea: road trip. He offered to rent an SUV and drive me across the country for some family bonding with him and my sister as I moved to LA for the then-foreseeable future.

The plan didn’t exactly thrill me. But, understanding my reaction requires a little background on where I come from: my parents have lived in different cities since I was five, making me very independent; I don’t like tight spaces, particularly with company; and I don’t talk to my family that much. Add in the fact that my dad scheduled enough stops to stretch the drive to nine days, and clearly this trip went against every survival instinct I have.

Going into the trip with a relatively fatalistic attitude, I figured my one chance at maintaining sanity would be to document the entire experience on video. What initially seemed like a fun way to kill time in the car and keep my friends abreast of my progress soon devolved into my dad nicknaming himself “YOM” (an acronym meaning “Your Old Man”) and my sister commandeering the camera to give shout-outs to my ex-girlfriends.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzCqWX0qUho

Things degraded further when we passed through Columbia, Missouri, home to my father’s alma mater, where he serenaded greater Missouri with his college fight song. A jaunt through Frat Row brought the introduction of the term “wench’s lost and found” turning the trip into Norman Rockwell’s worst nightmare set against the plot structure of Heart of Darkness.

Another unforeseen complication of sharing the car with my dad and a girl seven years my junior, was music choice.  My dad had settled into the typical middle-aged obsession with John Mellencamp, Fleetwood Mac and Billy Joel (because the minute you hit fifty, those artists somehow become palatable), while Rachel would routinely snap on a pair of headphones and belt out top 40 hits in the backseat.

Agreeing on what to listen to is one of those things that starts out as a minor quibble, but after five days of listening to the same CDs on repeat (our rental car didn’t have an iPod dock) I was not-so-secretly considering stabbing my own eardrums to avoid hearing “Jack and Diane” for the 753rd time.

While much of the road trip was obviously spent, well, on the road, we interspersed a few visits to family across the country.  An additional oddity of my family is how well everyone gets along. On the surface, that sounds like a banal statement, but when you consider that my parents have each been married three times, and literally everyone gets along, the strangeness comes to the fore. In Chicago, we stayed with the sister of my dad’s third wife; in St. Louis, with the parents of my mother (my dad’s first wife); in Kansas City, with my aunt; and closed the trip by having a guys’ weekend in Vegas with me, my dad, and my mom’s third husband. Throw in the fact that my dad gleefully recounted the story of my birth before an audience, and my seven years in therapy starts to make a lot more sense.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncZPrJo0IhY

Even though we had planned out some of our pit stops ahead of time, the first night of the trip proved just how little forethought had gone into the rest of the drive. We pulled into State College, PA, home of Penn State, during a blizzard, the day before winter graduation and on the same weekend as the statewide high school wrestling finals. In short, we couldn’t find a hotel room to save our lives. Little did I know this would become a recurring theme for the rest of the drive.

Later, at the halfway point of the trip, we ran out of gas because my dad ignored the low fuel warning. And we had the same problem again in a particularly desolate stretch of Utah where there isn’t a gas station or cell service for over 100 miles…  In both instances, we had to depend on our hitchhiking abilities to get us to and from the nearest town with a can of fuel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWgRUh8LmjA

After the Utah incident, the trip got a lot smoother, thanks to the milder winters out west. By January of 2010, I was settled into a new apartment in Los Angeles, downright blissful in the belief that I’d never have to take on such a daunting move again, not realizing realize that I’d bounce between coasts again in 2011, 2012 and 2013, taking on the drive by myself each time.

And while driving cross-country by myself didn’t produce as many stories, at least I got to pick the music.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

Handling Public Transit

Four years ago, I was in Singapore—arguably one of the safest countries in the world—when I found myself in the back of a stranger’s gray minivan heading back to what would (hopefully) be my hotel. After my friend and I left a bar and couldn’t find taxis, she had used her Mandarin to flag down the vehicle of a family driving back from an IT convention and convinced them to give us a ride home. We ended up getting dropped off at a chicken and rice restaurant because, well, priorities.

Photo by Sara Slattery

I vowed never to hitchhike again, until two years later, when I found myself in Buenos Aires on the back of a strange Argentine’s motorcycle, post New Year’s, heading to breakfast at 7 am because, again, priorities.

As I’ve gotten older and have traveled more, I understand that strangers’ vehicles do not really qualify as public transportation. Therefore, to safely explore a city, I have since opted to take the local tube, metro, or subway. Though it can be overwhelming, taking public transportation can give you the best insights into the nature and vibe of a town. Plus, it teaches you how weird people everywhere really are. While the train lines and the bus numbers change, there are some universal rules that I always follow when hopping aboard anything that moves faster than 2 miles per hour.

1. Always plan a second route.

When I was visiting London for a few days, I became a short-lived master of the specific routes of the Tube. However, one evening when I was rushing to get back to my hotel, the dreaded announcement of a technical difficulty came over the loudspeakers (I swear British English is its own language). The train was going to be parked at this random station indefinitely. Since I was in a rush, I jumped out at the station and came above ground. Realizing I only had a vague idea of where I was, I started walking down the street to find another Tube line and even attempted to navigate the bus system, both ending in utter failures. Annoyed, I tried to hail a cab but they were all taken. Just to add icing on my pathetic cake, it began to downpour because London sits under an everlasting cumulonimbus cloud. So, basically, I relived a horrible scene from an equally horrible Jennifer Aniston movie and walked five blocks in the rain to just turn around and go back on the original broken-down rail.

Side note: I later found out there was a direct bus to the street of my hotel right near the train stop.

2. During peak hours, work your way to the door well before your stop.

In Mumbai, India, the trains are packed sardine cans with bold and desperate commuters clinging onto the outsides while racing to their potential doom (or home, depending on what comes first or what you actually want). My good friend was one of the those unlucky souls packed so tightly in the middle of the car that he was unable to maneuver his way to the front in time for his stop; he watched the door close from within the train and he hurdled on to the next stop. This happened two or three more times on the same journey, with each stop bringing him significantly further away from his home. By the time he was able to battle his way off the train, he had traveled over 35 minutes away from his intended stop, forcing him to cross the platform and jump right back on the train and backtrack his route. This resulted in an extra hour-and-a-half commute back to his destination and a few veins bursting in his forehead.

3. Always have ample money on your bus pass or subway card; never let the amount run low.

If you are vacationing in a foreign city, look into investing in a day pass or something long-term instead of just a single ride. This way, you will save money in the long run if you plan on taking the trains a lot, and you won’t have to worry about the zones or specific costs of each stop. In addition, if you miss your stop, you won’t feel particularly wounded that you have to buy another ticket again. Save your dignity-reducing actions for later in the evening.

4. Do NOT make eye contact.

As a human, I understand the urge to people watch and casually observe, but when on public transport, staring at someone in a close proximity is extremely uncomfortable and can warrant some unnecessary responses. I generally get really into staring at the same smudged spot on the door or begin a highly detailed analysis of my nail cuticles.

My dear friend made the mistake of looking at a disheveled man sitting across from her on a New York subway, catching his gaze for a second too long. I’m not sure in which animal world a lingering gaze is a cue for self-pleasure, but the man was inspired to stand up, move closer to her, and stare at her while shoving his hands under his trench coat (they are always in trench coats!) and fondling his unmentionables. Utterly horrified, my friend sat paralyzed ‘til the next stop, where she immediately switched train cars. I’m not saying every time you look someone in the eye they masturbate, but I’m not NOT saying that either.

5. Exercise caution when taking out all your Apple products.

Fine, maybe Android for you heathens, but either way, I wouldn’t recommend carelessly waving your iPod, tablet, or smartphone around. The more you take public transit, the easier it is to let your guard down, but try to make it a point to really be aware of your surroundings. This sounds simple, but as an ardent breaker of this rule, I’m speaking on experience. When my friends and I were in Chicago taking the L back home around 9:30 pm, my friend was telling us a story, holding her brand new iPhone in her hand. Just as we were approaching a stop, a boy no older than 14 walked by us and immediately tried to snatch the phone from her hand and run out the door. Luckily, my friend had an iron grip on the phone and glass-shattering screams, and the boy ran off sans phone and sans hearing. Naturally, everyone else in the car pretended to be dead and didn’t bother to even blink at her screams.

So, whether you are a daily commuter in Boston or a novice navigating the trains of Bangkok, I suggest you follow these simple rules of public transit to ensure a stress-free ride.

Or you could take a ride on a South American’s Vespa for breakfast. I promise you, you won’t regret that, either.