Uncharted Territory
Two pairs of rhinestone-studded flip-flops. Sequin-trimmed tank tops. Capri pants. Leggings. Headbands. Jewelry. Sunglasses. A beaded shawl.
“You can’t take all this stuff,” I say to my nine-year-old daughter Molly.
“Mom, just because you have no sense of fashion-”
“Oh my God, there’s more?” I say, as I spot a diary, Nancy Drew mysteries, sketchbooks, and a stuffed bear with multiple outfits piled by her bedroom door. “I told you: pajamas, underwear, toothbrush.”For the next hour we negotiate. I don’t let her see what I have stowed in my Defenders of Wildlife backpack: class=”padded-image” maps, first aid kit, rain ponchos, jackets, trail mix, canned fruit, bottled water, lots of cash. In the morning we are planning to travel from Burbank to Long Beach by public transit (with a stop in Hollywood to pick up Molly’s friend Scarlett) and check into the haunted Queen Mary Hotel.
I’m terrified.
Not of the paranormal. I’d afraid of attempting to shepherd two nine-year-olds on a thirty-five mile trip WITHOUT MY CAR. My dear, sweet, loyal, dependable, greenhouse-gas-emitting car, always stocked with emergency blankets, earthquake supplies, clothing, sand toys, and hair accessories. Always ready and eager to help in an emergency.
Lying in bed after midnight I think, “What if one of us really, really has to go to the bathroom, and we have to get off the train and try to find a public restroom in Watts? What if Molly has a horrible ear ache or Scarlett breaks an arm or I have an attack of appendicitis, and we absolutely have to get to a hospital? What if late at night the girls see the bloody severed head of a slaughtered Queen Mary guest floating in mid-air and they cry and scream, desperate to go straight home immediately?”
At breakfast I say to Molly, “Sweetie, I think we’ll just take the car.”
She says, “Excuse me? What about reducing our carbon footprints?”
“Maybe another time.”
“You don’t care about saving the planet?”
“No, no…I mean, yes, …I mean, okay.”
At 9am, packs on our backs, we hoof it to the bus stop. From experience we know the bus comes every hour, more or less. We wait thirty minutes and hop on board for the twenty minute ride to the Universal train station. There we catch the Red Line to Hollywood to pick up Scarlett. I insist everyone use the Ladies Room in the Hollywood/Highland mall.
On the train, the girls sing Avril Lavigne tunes, play Hangman, and gossip about classmates as we rumble along the tracks and on up to street level, heading south through the poorest sections of Los Angeles. We stop to pick up passengers in communities that are virtually invisible from the freeway. Watts. Willowbrook. Compton. We’re the only white folks on the train now.
Heavily tattooed young men sway to the beat of their iPods. Tall, lean fellows in workman’s overhauls board with their bicycles. A grandma, daughter and two-year-old grandchild sit down across from us with blankets and duffel bags. Molly and Scarlett play peek-a-boo with the toddler who squeals with delight.
As we approach Long Beach, I ask Grandma where to get the connecting bus.
“The buses are one block over and they’re all free,” she says with an encouraging grin.
She’s right. Soon we’re on a big purple bus, and the tall, orange smoke stacks of the Queen Mary are coming into view.
We marvel at our stateroom with portholes big enough to jump through. A spooky tour of the haunted swimming pool and the endless maze of stairs and passageways leave us breathless. The next day we take in the nearby Russian submarine and the Aquarium of the Pacific (tickets compliments of the Queen Mary), then board the 5pm train for home. Settling into my seat, I think of the nightmarish traffic I would be battling on the freeway at this hour.
“Where will we go on our next trip?” the girls ask.
I pull out my trusty Metro map.
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Vicki Juditz - Ecoist
Vicki Juditz is best known for Teshuvah, Return, her solo theater piece about her journey to Judaism, for which she received a Drama-Logue Award, an L.A. Weekly nomination for Best Female Solo Performer, and an Ovation Award nomination for Best Writing of a World Premiere. Other solo shows include Life After Life and Where do Babies Come From? She has performed her extensive repertoire of original stories at theaters and festivals across the country and has been a featured storyteller at the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, TN. On TV, she played Hayden’s secretary on Coach, and guest starred on Storytime, Everybody Loves Raymond, Yes, Dear, and My Name is Earl. Her personal essays appear monthly in the online publication Mad As Hell Club.
Tags: bus, day trips, public transportation, Queen Mary