BY BUSINESS JOURNAL STAFF With the western end of the Metro Orange Line across the street from the San Fernando Valley Business Journal’s offices in Woodland Hills, the editorial staff of the newspaper followed the construction progress closely. Like everyone else, each of the paper’s four editorial staff members has suffered through horrendous traffic and cringed with every increase in gas prices. So they were anxious to try out the new line when it opened. None of the staff members had been regular mass transit users. The purpose of the exercise was to test how the new line and other public transportation suited so-called “white-collar” workers, a segment of the population that needs to be attracted to mass transit if it truly is to ever take hold in Los Angeles and help unclog the crowded streets. On Halloween, each of the staffers boarded public transportation from their homes, using the new Orange Line if appropriate, and arrived at work at 9:30 a.m. Tbeir experiences are described below in first person accounts. Jason Schaff, editor I’m the perfect candidate for riding the Orange Line. A resident of North Hollywood, I live just off Lankershim Boulevard five blocks from the Chandler subway station which is the eastern end of the new busway. Clean and neat, I thought, when I heard what route the bus would take, dropping me off across the street from my office. No reason why I shouldn’t take it at least a few days a week. As for the other days, as part of my job I go to many meetings and community events and the turnaround is tight some days. This makes getting around by Valley mass transit seem impractical to me on those occasions. But last Monday, an unusually hot day for the last day of October, I put on my usual work garb (slacks, pressed shirt, tie and sport coat) and left my condo at 8:18 a.m. to walk what I thought was a short distance to the Orange Line. Well, those five blocks to the bus stop are l-o-n-g blocks, or at least it seemed. I tend to stuff too much in my briefcase so I was weighed down. I kept shifting the briefcase from hand to hand as I walked and eventually perspired in my sport coat under the sun. So much for being fresh for work. Also, why did I feel so self conscious walking down the sidewalk in a suit coat carrying a briefcase? Probably because no one does that in L.A. Mass transit is supposed to make your life easier, I thought as I walked. I also thought that New Yorkers must sweat more in their humidity than I’m sweating as they walk to the subway. What a lightweight I am, I thought. It took 20 long minutes for me to walk those five long blocks, believe it or not. That’s half the time it takes for me to usually drive my car to work and I hadn’t even gotten on the bus yet a bus that was supposed to take 40 minutes to get to Woodland Hills from North Hollywood. So my commute would go to 40 minutes (on an average day) to always at least an hour if I took the Orange Line. But I could read and relax. I bought a ticket and got on the westbound 8:43 a.m. bus that was waiting at the station. I was the only one on board! Yes, it was rather late in the commuting hours but the only one on board on opening day of the line? Five more people got on shortly after I did and the bus took off at 8:46 a.m. The highest number of people on my bus that morning was a dozen. Within five minutes we were at Valley College. That’s great. That’s usually about a 15 minute drive in my car from my place during rush hour. The Orange Line was a quiet ride and gave me quite a view of the belly of the Valley. Being on a dedicated busway was great because it gave me the sense that I was actually getting somewhere without being stuck in traffic. I started to relax until some idiot driver ran a red light at Reseda Boulevard and we almost hit him. That was the bus driver’s third close call in two days, he said. We then had another close call at the intersection at Mason. Get me off, I thought. My ride home on the line that night was even more eventful. There was another close call at Balboa and at Kester the traffic backed up at the intersection and was blocking the busway when we arrived. Close call again. The driver honked his horn at almost every intersection and slowed down to the point of almost stopping. He seemed nervous. And I didn’t feel safe. So much for relaxing on my commute. Shelly Garcia, senior reporter As a native New Yorker, I’m pretty comfortable with the idea of public transportation. But as I stared at the metro.net Web site to plan my day’s travels via L.A.’s bus lines, comfortable was not what I was feeling. Unlike my co-workers, I live just a block from Ventura Boulevard, so taking the new Orange Line was an unrealistic exercise. Instead, I boarded Rapid Bus 750 on Monday morning, traveling up Ventura Boulevard from my home in Sherman Oaks to the Woodland Hills transit hub. The trip, which took about as long as my average commute by car, was rather uneventful. But in the evening I would have to navigate the two miles to my gym at Shoup Avenue and Ventura Boulevard and then back home. I turned to the Metro Web site to plan my route. Getting home from the gym would require two buses, the first to take me from Shoup to Topanga Boulevard where I would catch Rapid bus 750 again. And there on the computer screen was the news: the last bus from Shoup to the Rapid bus connection left at 8:14 p.m. I bagged the gym and headed for the 750 at the transit hub. In New York, you can miss a bus, and another will be right behind. And if it does take longer, you can wait along bustling streets with plenty of people around you. If you’re type A, you can even stroll to the next bus stop, only a block away in nearly every case, window shopping as you go. But if I missed the last bus at Shoup, I would have to walk to Topanga Boulevard, under the freeway overpass, across the freeway off-ramp, past gas stations and buildings long closed for the night. What if the bus came early, and I missed it? What if it came late? How long would I have to wait at the corner of nowhere and not-a-thing-in-sight? And that’s when it hit me. Taking public transportation is a matter of faith. We all want to know that at the end of the day we can go home, kick off our shoes and breathe a sigh of relief. But how can you trust public transportation in a city that never put any value on providing for the transport of its public? I made a beeline for the transit hub and the more reliable 750 after all, it’s been tooling up and down Ventura Boulevard for several years now. Sure enough, the 7:21 I planned to catch came early, and I watched it pull away. A man with no teeth passed by riding a bicycle and smiled at me. I, and about four fellow travelers watched as the 750 sat a block away for 20 minutes before pulling up to allow us to board. Officials can ballyhoo the Orange Line all they want, but they’re going to have to give me a reason to believe. Until then, I’m sticking with my car. Jeff Weiss, staff reporter I hadn’t ridden mass transportation since the 8th grade, when a couple friends and I lied to our parents about our whereabouts and hopped onto the Santa Monica Blue Bus enroute to Venice Beach. Consequently, I had little idea about what to expect as I descended the long stairwell to the Los Feliz Metro station at the corner of Sunset and Vermont. In fact, I didn’t even know a soul who’d ever ridden the Metro, save for one of my college friends who’d ridden it once. His sage conclusion of its merits: “Dude. It’s pretty cool. And there aren’t any transit cops. You can totally ride for free.” Trying to ignore these recondite pearls of wisdom that ran through my head, I found myself in the practically empty train station staring into my wallet, attempting to find change to buy an all-day pass. No such luck; I saw only a lone $20 bill staring me back in the face. Naturally, while MTA was thoughtful enough to allow its Orange Line customers to pay by credit card, it hadn’t imagined that its Red Line customers might desire the same convenience. So with no vendors of any kind anywhere in the subway station, I was forced to trek three blocks to the nearest gas station to get proper change. Twenty minutes later, I found myself on board the Red Line heading northwest en route to North Hollywood. A cursory scan of the car realized how much I stood out from the other passengers considering that I was the only person wearing a tie, or even a pair of slacks. If I had to guess, I would’ve ventured to say that the majority of the people around me were riding the train out of sheer necessity, rather than a passion for eco-centric living or a burning desire to avoid paying steep gas prices. After approximately 15 minutes, I was let off at the North Hollywood exit, the final stop of the line. Without having to wait a second, a massive Orange Line bus appeared, I took my seat and finally began the trek to Warner Center, a full 50 minutes after leaving my apartment. There really wasn’t much to say about my ride on the Orange Line. I found it smooth, relatively rapid and empty. At its peak, there were no more than seven people on my bus. By the time I reached Warner Center, approximately 40 minutes later, I was one of only three people to depart. All in all, I enjoyed the opportunity to get to read on my way to work and it definitely reduced my stress. Yet I’m not sure how often I’ll take the Orange Line. I like my sleep and taking mass transit would require me waking up a full 50 minutes earlier each morning. Then again, I didn’t see any transit cops anywhere during my odyssey. Maybe I really could “totally ride for free.” Jonathan D. Colburn, staff reporter After one year in Los Angeles, I could feel my commute having a subtle effect on my attitude. My tension slowly increased throughout my one-hour drive from Pasadena, and at times I admit that I imagined what it would be like to puncture the tires of all the people cutting me off. For the last year, I’ve awaited the opening of the Orange Line with perhaps more hope than my colleagues. I have fond memories of taking the train to work for a few months in San Francisco, and even though most Angelenos think I’m lying through my teeth when I tell them I enjoy walking, it’s true. Even to a metro stop. At 7:25 last Monday I boarded the Gold Line in Pasadena, knowing that if I stuck to the rail system, my day pass would be all I needed. By the time I reached the Orange Line at about 8:40 I had yet to wait for more than a couple of minutes for a train, and had even read a book on my way. Once on the high tech looking Orange Line bus, I did notice that I was the only person wearing a tie or business attire, so I found it doubtful that any of my fellow workers in the Warner Center Towers were riding along with me. I’m willing to bet, however, that there were a few more businesspeople arriving earlier than my 9:30 a.m. start time. I also appreciated the news broadcasts on the bus monitors, but I think Monday morning was a little too late to be giving football game weather conditions in Foxborough, Mass. since the Patriots had dispatched the Buffalo Bills the previous night. A two-hour train ride is never going to be very convenient for me. By the time I was back home close to 8:00 p.m., I felt as though I had slept on the train. I felt I couldn’t complain about traffic in good conscience without at least giving the new Metro line a shot. At the end of this month I’ll be moving to a new apartment near the Hollywood or Silver Lake neighborhoods, so I may start to see the Orange Line as a much more convenient transportation alternative. Like many people in Los Angeles, I marvel at the speed with which I add miles to my car, and it won’t be long before I pay enough for oil changes to buy my own Jiffy Lube franchise. Public transportation sparks such an internal struggle for this city’s residents, however. Every minute has to be accounted for, and in some ways it’s just not socially acceptable to hop on the bus. My bus trip provided a rare opportunity however. I did get the chance to avoid the tension headache that accompanies my drive and put a dent in a book; I also found myself, for a while, thinking about absolutely nothing. That’s something I do less frequently than my editor would tell you. For me, I think a relaxing trip to work once a week or so will be worth leaving half an hour earlier in the morning. Even if I have to walk to a train station.
