Waiting for the Bus...

I never could understand the propensity we have toward standing in line. We'll run from one place just so we can wait in the next and stare at the back of some stranger's head. It's the very definition of "hurry up and wait."

Right now, I'm waiting for the bus, seated on an uncomfortable wooden bench. But even though it's hard, unforgiving and isn't really angled well at all for lumbar support, it's way better than standing in the line that's ever-growing in front of me. It now snakes its way past the men's restroom entrance, pushes beyond Honey Dew Donuts and threatens to block the doorway to the women's commode.

This bus, by the way, doesn't leave for another 20 minutes. And it leaves every hour, on the hour. it's not like it's anything exciting or it'll get so full that you'll miss it. Rush hour doesn't even hit full swing for another hour. And by then, the transportation company will be running three buses every hour to handle the demand.

It seems a lot like amusement parks, waiting for the bus. We'll gladly shell out $60 for a day's worth of getting sunburned while waiting upwards of 90 minutes for less than 90 seconds of pleasure. We'll then take a half-dozen heart-pounding rides in 12 hours, then call it a day—but not before buying the obligatory t-shirt to proudly proclaim, "I rode the XXX!" The underlying statement of said t-shirt being, "I waited two-and-a-half hours to do it. Aren't you jealous?"

Back in the terminal. There are even more people in line now. Each maintains a nice, safe distance from each other, not speaking, not making eye contact. They're jealously guarding their respective spaces, though. The posture of each potential bus-rider says, "This is MY place, MY spot. I am 5th. I am 8th. I am 12th." and so on. Some have even dropped knapsacks, positioning them between feet, building an even more solid foundation to their unspoken, and heretofore, unchallenged 2-foot by 2-foot plot of line land.

I wonder if the business woman in heels' feet hurt? Do the shoulders of the backpacker ache? And, why, pray God, would you try to make a 6-year-old stay in one space for 45 minutes before boarding a bus that'll make him sit still in his seat for another hour?

Lines suck.

On top of all of it, when they move, they never go fast enough. I'll join it when they start taking tickets and passengers begin heading into the idling bus, single file, shuffling for seats. But if I've neglected to take my ticket out of my bag or if I get my rolling suitcase caught on a stanchion, then I'll be subjected to rolled eyes, muttered curses, and my nearest neighbor standing ominously close. All because of a few seconds delay.

My line on lines? They're overrated. Get in late, get out early and cut wherever possible.

Note: I wrote this a couple weeks back, in a notebook, while waiting for the bus. Forgot to upload it here... and, by the way, I will try to update more often than ever two months.

Time to Decompress...

I drive a lot. My commute is 75 miles in each direction. And though I only work in the office three days a week, I still spend at least 500 miles on the road each week. Add in the other miscellaneous driving I do, and I'm putting well over 2,000 miles on my car each month.

(For reference, I snapped this picture on January 2nd and I've gone over 3,000 miles since. This means I get a lot of oil changes.)

Typically, I spend about 100 minutes driving into work and 80 going home, since there's less traffic when I leave the office.

That's a lot of driving for anyone, but I have gotten used to the commute. I don't love it, but I can't say that I actually hate it, either. That drive home, spacing out as I maintain a certain cruise control speed in the fast-lane is peaceful alone time—the majority spent listening to the music, NPR, or audiobooks—does wonders for my post-work psyche.

Now, I don't have a stressful job. Sure, some days are busier than others, but it's nothing like a fast-paced, Crackberry, newsroom environments from my past gigs. Heck, even working at the travel agency caused more stress, since I was in charge of everything. Mostly, I do my thing, do it well, and leave it behind at the end of the day.

But for me, I still need that time in the car to decompress from my day. I use it as a transition from "work mode."

What's work mode? Work mode is how I get when I'm on task. It can happen in the office, at my real job, or when I'm banging away at the keyboard at home. As a guy, I can only handle one task at a time. I'll focus on that one thing and ignore everything else. This makes me a delightful conversationalist while I'm in work mode.

"Mmhmm... yeah, whatever."

"Uh, what'd you say?"

"(Dead silence)"

Yeah, I'm not that much fun in work mode.

The problem with work mode is that it takes me some time to work my way out of it. I can't just instantly leave the office and feel my brain turn to back toward my real life. Nope, it requires some coaching, some telling myself not to think about work stuff, and a lot of zen-like emptying of the mind. Not that I'm meditating while I'm driving... More likely, I'm just not thinking of anything.

And that part's great. I'm much more social and relaxed when I get home.

I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I was just thinking about it the other day and I wondered if anyone else has a "work mode?" Or is that purely an annoying Nagel trait?

(Yes, as you can see from my odometer, my Toyota Camry is the definition of a high-mileage car.)

Reading on the Road

Everyone wants to read more. At least, I've never heard of anyone who wants to read less. I think deciding to read more has to be the second most popular New Year's resolution—right after trying to lose weight, joining a gym and making sure I have to wait 10 minutes to get on any machine for the first 21 days of every year.

As you know, I don't really like making New Year's Resolutions, but I always do try to make a conscious effort to read more. Lately (and by "lately," I mean the last three years), I haven't been reading as much as I want. Earning a MFA actually kept me from burying my nose in books. I worked, I went to class, came home, pretended to do work, went to bed and then repeated the process. There wasn't room for much extra-curricular activity there. And when there was, I didn't read anything.

But, lately, I've been doing my best to crank through some books. I'm just finishing the Lord of the Rings trilogy for the first time (spending a lot of time in Mordor). I fell in love with "The Alchemist," Paulo Coelho's classic. In fact, I liked that one so much, I not only learned his name, but I also subscribed to his fantastic blog. I've joined a nerdy reading group, where we're going through Thucydides' and Aristotle's original works and discussing them on a monthly conference call (in between Dungeons and Dragon sessions and smoking pipes).

But most of the "reading" I've done lately has taken place in my car. Those of you that know me, probably aren't that surprised—you know how much emailing/texting/Twittering I do from the highway's fast lane. But I'm not talking about actual reading, I'm talking about audiobooks.

Three days a week, I spend anywhere from 3-4 hours on the road. I have a 75-mile commute, about 20 of which take place in busy, rush-hour traffic. It's a good way for a man to go insane. So I had to find some way to occupy myself and provide distraction from ramming my Camry head-on into some jerk's BMW. So, I visited my local library and started picking up audiobooks.

Being a visual person, I didn't know how I'd do. But it's turned out to be a great success. After just a minute or two, I find myself completely engrossed in listening to the book. I still pay attention to driving, of course, but my brain doesn't really wander otherwise. And it makes those 75 miles just whip by, even when I'm just doing 4.5 miles an hour and drifting leaves are making more progress. Thus far, I've "read" Hemingway's "Old Man and the Sea" (every word counts), David Sedaris' "When You Are Engulfed in Flames" (classic Sedaris, and always funny), Augusten Burrough's "Running with Scissors" (delightfully depressing), and the Ken Burns' audiobook companion for the Mark Twain documentary (surprisingly good). Considering the lengths of the books, I've made pretty good progress over the past two months or so. Right now, I'm halfway through Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice," which has given me an opportunity to get through a book that I probably wouldn't have otherwise read.

So, while this has been a boring blog post for you to read, I did want you to know that I'm enjoying myself. And, perhaps, encourage you to find a way to read a bit more... even if it has to be an inventive way. Just, for the love of all that's good, don't become the girl in front of me at the gym, reading Cosmo while she barely pedals the stationary bike.

Oh, the humanity! (of the Beijing subways)

I've been on crowded trains before, don't get me wrong.

When I lived in London, my daily commute involved taking an overland train from Clapham Junction (Britain's busiest rail station) to Waterloo and then switching to the subway during rush hour. If I had enough room to hold a paperback in front of my face AND still have it far enough away to pick out individual letters without my eyes cramping, it was a light travel day. That hardly ever happened.

Coming to Beijing, a delightful city of 17 million in a country of 1.3 billion people (one-sixth of the world's population), I knew I was in for some close encounters of the Chinese kind in public transport. Every day since I've gotten here, I've been pushed, poked, prodded, piled on, pried past and probably propositioned politely on the subway. The Line 1 trains are particularly packed. Frankly, the time of day doesn't really matter... Sure, it's more backed up during the moring/evening rush hours, but I've gotten into squished cars at 2:30 in the afternoon. Whatever, it's part of life here.

The fun thing I didn't expect to find here was what I affectionately call "The Running of the Chinese Bulls." You see, I'm staying beyond the end of Line 1. That line ends at a stop (Sihui East). From there, I have to switch to the Batong Line if I want to continue eastwards from downtown. It makes no sense whatsoever - the Beijing MTA could easily just make the Line 1 trains keep going instead of pulling U-turns and heading back west, but whatever. I'll post more on that sort of commonplace Chinese efficiency later.

The Running of the Chinese Bulls is what commuters do every time they have to switch trains at Sihui East. The line up at the doors of a Line 1 train, sprint out in a mad dash from the car, up the closest flight of stairs, through corrals set up for the express purpose of preventing the weak and young from being trampled, back down a flight of stairs to a different platform and then huddle around the areas where the next train's doors will open. Once that train pulls into the station, the people cluster around the doors - literally pressing themselves against the side of the car - before sprinting for a seat as soon as they whoosh open.

It's hysterical.

I've seen full-on dives for seats, mothers tossing toddlers into an open plastic chair, bags thrown down to mark territory and more sucker punches thrown in the scrum than I could count. Within three seconds, every seat is taken and the chaos subsides into the usual sort of spacy silence you'd expect from the commuting crowd. It's rather uncanny and something you just need to see for yourself. So, I've taken it upon myself to videotape the scramble for my next YouTube project.

Here goes nothing...