Suzy Says

I took my first cab today since moving to Oakland.

It’s still approximately the same temperature here as it is on the sun, and I dragged the remains of the fabulosity formerly known as Suzy from the BART station, only to see the bus I needed – wanted at that point, so lowly have my desires become – pull away from the curb and go merrily on its way. The thought of waiting for 15 to 20 minutes in the wrinkle- and sweat- inducing blazing heat could not have been a less appealing prospect, even when thoughtfully provided with a bottle of water and a library book.

Looking up from the deeply disappointing schedule, I noticed a line of happy yellow cabs, sitting across the street, calling my name.

Who was I to resist?

So I hopped in, and on the way home pondered the following:

• Do I still get credit for taking the bus to BART, even though I took a cab home? It’s a “Spare the Air” day, due to heat and smog and smoke, so we are supposed to take public transit (which used to be free on Spare the Air days, but now isn’t, like many airline amenities). So is a cab bad, or, since it’s used by other people, sort of serial car pooling, sort of OK?
• Why is it always so much better to be driven than to drive oneself? Even the skankiness of popular murder location International Boulevard seems merely colorful from the back seat of a hired vehicle.
• Why is it that cabs and hotels, where you know other people have sat and slept (among other things), seem luxurious and delightful, whereas the reason I have never gone bowling is the shoes? I can’t stand the thought of wearing shoes previously worn by a parade of total strangers of unknown hygiene. Who are bowlers.

By then I was home. Oh, and I finally used up my BART ticket! Well, one of them, anyway. Due to carelessness and general personality disorders, I tend to not have exact change and just add $5 onto a ticket I already have. Or go crazy and get a $10 one (the actual fare, which I know you are dying to know, is $6.60. Is it any wonder that I never have that exact amount?). I usually have no fewer than five BART tickets with 10 or 20 cents on them floating around in my purse at any given time.

But today I have one less, because I not only had the exact change, but I dared to use it. It was surprisingly satisfying to have the ticket vanish into the turnstile, never to be seen (at least by Me) again.

Now if I can just use up the rest of them…