Why Do GOPers Hate Trains?

Why indeed?

What an Amtrak locomotive looks like... intact

Amtrak Budget Axed By 20% the Day After Crash

The Real News interviews Matt Taibbi about that very subject: why are congressional GOPers unsupportive of railroads? Watch the video on the linked page for his answer.

This handsome logo was introduced in 1969,
long after my father had abandoned
railroad work for schoolteaching.

(Full disclosure: after returning from W.W. II and being honorably discharged from the US Navy, my father, after working a couple of odd jobs, found his first sustained employment in the railroad freight business, directing the loading and unloading of trains for Missouri Pacific at their warehouse in Houston. I don't have any warm fuzzy feelings for the railroad, but in that part of my childhood I came to see that, trucking and air freight notwithstanding, the railroads are an essential part of America's business infrastructure. So to that extent I suppose I could be called "biased" in opposition to dismantling or neglecting the rail network... though I would call it a policy position on my part rather than mere unsupported prejudice.)

More METROLift Musings

METROLift (for those who haven't visited this site in many moons, that's Houston's public transit system for the disabled) is changing in several ways. I am willing to accept the changes as good-faith efforts to improve the service, however annoyed I may be with the details on a particular day or trip.

For one thing, METROLift is obviously attempting to serve more riders per vehicle trip. On the whole, in principle, I approve: METROLift is, after all, a bus system adapted to the requirements of handicapped people, but a bus system nonetheless, and the more it follows a one-vehicle multiple-riders model, the more it can obtain the advantages of a bus system. There are some limits to the multiplexing... the service still has to pick up riders at their source locations (homes, workplaces, etc.) and drop them at, or very close to, their actual destinations (not blocks away, as buses do)... but modifying the scheduling algorithm has clearly allowed them to serve more passengers literally simultaneously, making better use of their half-bus-sized vehicles and less use of van-sized cabs which often carry one or two people at a time. On the downside, I seem to be living near the beginnings of a lot of routes, so that the half-bus comes to me first or second, then picks up another passenger, and another, and another, eventually drops off those riders at their destinations one-by-one, and finally drops me off after six or eight other stops... not necessarily close to my home or my destination. Yes, they have delivered me on schedule most of the time. Yes, the whole process drives the drivers stark raving crazy. Such, apparently, is the price of providing people with disabilities a service somewhat resembling public transit. It's certainly better than nothing, or pricey cab service, which is all disabled people had before the Americans with Disabilities Act in the early 1990's.

For another thing, I am using METROLift differently. Now I frequently schedule three stops in the course of what for me is a single trip... home A to grocer B to grocer C and back home, or home A to post office D to grocer B and back home. As long as I buy my frozen foods on the last leg of my run, everything works fine. On many days, though, it does involve a lot of waiting for late vehicles.

And I just have to report a recent conversation with a driver...

Driver:		(arrives at TIRR)
Steve:		(approaches vehicle)
Driver:		Hello!
Steve:		Hi! "Bates"?
Driver:		No, "Stepney."
Steve:		"Stephen Bates"?
Driver:		"Bates," yes, but it's "Stepney." Uh, "Stephanie."
Steve:		My first name is "Stephen" ... "S-T-E-P-H-E-N".
Driver:		That's how it's spelled here on the form, but that's not how you spell "Steven"!

If only someone had been around 64 years ago to tell my parents...

METROFail™

Yesterday we went grocery shopping at Fiesta, the biggest local international food market. If you like Mexican food, or Indian/Pakistani or Middle Eastern or even British food, Fiesta is the source of choice. It's only a few miles from us, just across and down the road from Reliant Stadium. I try to shop there about every fifth shopping trip or so.

We went by METROLift. Stella rode on my ticket as my "attendant"; no, not a medical attendant but a grocery toter... the gal has strong arms. It also gave her a better chance than a shopping list to influence purchases.

The trip to Fiesta was uneventful. The shopping was pleasant. There was even some romancing in the aisles; we're not shy.

The trip back... almost didn't happen.

METROlift kept us standing for 2½ hours in front of Fiesta. Two and one-half hours. With a grocery cart full of melting frozens. Each time I phoned their automated tracker, our vehicle arrival time was pushed back another 15 or 30 minutes.

Finally the vehicle disappeared from the automated system. That did it for me: I phoned the dispatcher. She confirmed that the vehicle was still en route, 3.4 miles from us. Then 3.2 miles from us. Then 9 miles from us. WHAT??? I asked the dispatcher. Apparently the driver (the dispatcher repeatedly said "he"; many of the drivers are women) decided to take a break. Great.

Stella reached her limit. She phoned a cab. I phoned the METROLift dispatcher again and informed her that we would take whichever vehicle arrived first, the cost be damned. She said she didn't blame me.

The cab didn't show in the promised 10 minutes. Or 20. Or 30.

One of Fiesta's managers noticed how long we had been there, and inquired. We told him our sad story. Bless him, he personally took our melted frozens and brought us replacements. Now there's an attitude that will keep long-term regular customers!

About that time, a METROLift bus (well, OK, not really a bus, but their biggest vehicle) showed up. We held it up (figuratively) while the manager came back with our frozens. The petite woman driving the bus proved to have more strength than both of us as she hefted our grocery bags aboard.

The cab? An inquiry with the cab company revealed that the driver decided to pick up another passenger instead. The company is so damned proud of the fact that their drivers are independent business people; well, there you see the consequences of that.

They say all's well that ends well... I'm afraid Stella would not agree. She has sworn off METROLift. No more accompanied grocery runs for me.

Shake A Leg! Or... When Life Hands You Lemons...

Fascinating, as Spock will someday say. This was a first-ever experience for me.

MetroLift hires large cabs for short-distance local runs. They're sort of like a bus with only five seats, and I presume they're more fuel-efficient than the small buses used on larger or more distant runs, so it makes sense to subsidize a willing cabbie to carry five people to several nearby destinations.

The one that arrived at TIRR Kirby Glen to pick me up (late, of course) was jam-packed with people. One seat, middle row right, remained vacant, so I began hefting myself into it. Unfortunately, front seat right was occupied by an absolutely imMENSE person. I could not get in; there was no room for my legs. I asked the immense person (I couldn't tell their sex from my viewpoint) to move his/her seat forward; s/he accommodated politely without complaint. I still couldn't get in. The driver checked whether my seat could be moved back; the answer: no.

I looked at the driver and the other passengers, decided they'd seen it all, and muttered, "I have an idea." I pushed the button that releases the pin on my prosthesis, reached down and... yes... took off my leg. I set the prosthesis between my knees, put on my seatbelt, and away we went. No one uttered a sound. Obviously those people had in fact seen it all already.

The moral of the story is this: if you're desperate to climb aboard a packed public conveyance, have an amputation. There might just be room for you if you board the vehicle a piece at a time.

Or...

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade... in your hollow leg!

There's Always A 'Good' Reason For A Bad Policy

We make you wait.™

My days (and to a lesser extent my nights) revolve around METROLift now. I'm always scheduling tomorrow's trips (always tomorrow's; that's the only choice because that's as far ahead as they let you schedule), waiting for a lift (they claim they aim for 90% on-time service; in my experience it's more like 90% late) or checking the increasing lateness of the trip I'm waiting for using their telephone service (lots of fun, as I dial endless digits on the microscopic buttons on my old cell phone to operate their MACS system to find out how much later they will be than they advertised when I first scheduled a trip). METROLift absorbs my life.

Bag it and go?
NO! Hell no!

Today I shall make my first attempt to go to my Post Office box. It isn't far, but it wasn't on the MACS web site's dropdown list, so I had to phone a human at Metro, always a chancy business. I managed to add the PO's location to the list just fine, then asked if there was a provision (as I had been told by one of the drivers) for an errand that was just a five-minute dash: go to the PO, dash in, dump mail from the box into my sack, dash out and get back on the lift. NO, said the very young man on the phone... the minimum time between trips is 45 minutes, and would you like to schedule your return trip?

This will not be easy. This Post Office (like most of them, come to think of it) has no seats in the lobby. So I shall stand with my walker for a minimum of 45 minutes... probably a half hour beyond that, considering METROLift's record of lateness. I don't mean to complain, but that is flat-out unreasonable to expect of a disabled person. I said as much to the very young man on the phone; he launched into a rambling explanation of why it had to be that way... all bullshit, of course. So I shall spend much of the rest of the day nursing my sore foot and stump, all to satisfy a bureaucratic mandate. Welcome to 21st-century America; enjoy your (far too long) stay!

UPDATE: ah, what an optimist I am. The ride home, scheduled for 45 minutes after my (theoretical) arrival time, was actually 1:30 afterward. Yes, an hour and a half. I did not have to stand up that entire time: the cookie shop next door to the PO allowed me to sit at one of their outdoor tables unmolested, and didn't even pressure me to buy a cookie. There are still some decent people in the world.

Even A Liberal Can Detest Bureaucracy

METROLift fucked up trying to take a picture of me two weeks ago downtown for my ID card ("Q Card"), and were unable to detect that fact on screen immediately after they took the picture. (Or so they claim. They wouldn't show me the display when I asked at the time. Personally, I suspect they failed to save or subsequently deleted the photo. They vehemently denied that allegation, claiming faulty equipment that day.)

I could scan and email them my driver's license so that 1) they would have a picture of me, and 2) they could see the identifying information on the license, all without my wasting most of a day traveling downtown. But noooo... I have to come in. I have to waste a day... they do not do any business by email. How nice for them.

GODDAMN BUREAUCRATS ANYWAY!

MetroLift Afterthoughts

Well, that was an exhausting challenge. METROLift is exTREMEly challenging to use, but it's probably worth it to me to persevere. Here are the vexations:

• You can use the web site to schedule trips only from 5:00am to 5:00pm (though the trips themselves can be earlier or later). In practical terms, for most people including me, this means getting up at dawn's crack, before this morning's ride, to schedule all of tomorrow's rides, because by the time most people get off work, the site is closed... you can view scheduled trips, but you can't schedule any new trips. Scheduling trips by phone has a time window even more restrictive.
• You are required to confirm your trip on the morning of the trip. You can do this by phoning or by visiting the scheduling web site. The phone line is overwhelmed at the busiest times of the morning; I was placed on hold for over 15 minutes on three attempts... twice on my cell phone as I was stranded outside waiting for the lift, i.e., with no web access available. I don't often wish for a smartphone, but this was one of those times.
• When you do get through, you find that the expected time of arrival at your location changes from minute to minute, always to a later time, as drivers take on passengers many of whom don't walk or roll very well. This morning, by the time my van arrived, it was almost an hour late of its originally scheduled time. (METROLift even tells you to lie to its system and schedule all your rides early, well before you actually need to be underway to get there on time.) I reached my morning destination right on time, barely. The afternoon van was a tiny bit more punctual; it was only about a half hour late. Even so, Stella, meeting me after my event, departing from a nearby bus stop, got home before I did.
• I still don't have my METROLift ID card, probably thanks to USPS... I know my ID number and associated password; those, plus a ticket and a photo ID (my otherwise seldom-used driver's license) will get you on board.

And I get to do it all over again tomorrow. You don't dare casually wander out to the curb 20-30 minutes later than your scheduled time, because not only might you get left standing at the curb, but Metro penalizes you for frequent "no-rides" by removing your riding privileges. They're doing the best they can, I'm doing the best I can, and the results are... well, exasperating is a kind word for them. By the time I got home at around 2:00pm, I was utterly exhausted. I had planned to tell you about the custom wheelchair I may be getting, but I just don't have the energy at the moment.

I think I'd better get some rest now. It's going to be an early morning tomorrow...

Transporter Malfunction? Try Another Transporter

The use of that large well-known volunteer org for transportation from home to my therapy sessions and back is proving fairly much a disaster. First they sent a vehicle I could not board: city-bus-style stairs were its only entrance. Next they sent a vehicle more suitable, but 40 minutes late. I've been burdening my friends and my mate; that doesn't always work out well, because most people I know are full-time employed.

Determined to try again... by this time I'd bought $20 worth of coupons for the service... I called to set up some rides for the following week. "None available, booked up," said the clerk. "How about the following week?" I inquired. "Booked up," she informed me.

"OK," I said, with as much artificially polite patience as I could muster. "Please tell me when there are rides available." There was a moment's pause; then she said, "Starting about April 10." So I have a $20 coupon book, less the two rides I've already used, that can't be used for a full month.

Time to look elsewhere.

My first "elsewhere" is Houston MetroLift, our city transit service aimed at disabled people. I had already applied for it a few weeks back; it takes a while for them to get you on their list. My interview is this Wednesday... yes, they require an in-person interview to confirm that you are in fact crippled, and decide which (if any) services you are eligible for. In their defense, they will provide you a MetroLift ride to the interview. They'll even tell you which day the interview is on... but not what time of day, until the night before. I'll be calling them Tuesday night after 9:00pm, and I won't be scheduling anything else on Wednesday. Whatthehell, cripples don't have schedules to spoil, right?

I believe you still have to buy and use coupons; I'm not sure. But at least it's one more option, cheaper than a cab, and I've heard of only one instance of their leaving someone stranded. Onward we march...

Adventures On The New Leg

Not mine, but similar

A lot like mine
but mine is a right foot

I've been out of the house on two adventures in two days on the new prosthesis, one yesterday to a therapy session (intense!) and one today to a Chinese restaurant. Both were positive in some ways. Yesterday's outing involved transportation through a well-known big‑name volunteer org; their morning ride to TIRR Kirby Glen arrived at my house 40 minutes late and miraculously arrived at TIRR only five minutes late for my session (TIRR runs its rehab like clockwork; it's uncool to be late). Going home was a bit better: the vehicle arrived on time, but the driver had been told to expect a wheelchair passenger, not a walker user, and my entrance to the vehicle was a slide-out ramp below a wide door. I've certainly had my practice on ramps lately, but I suppose I shouldn't complain about a variety of experiences.

Today was my first meal out since the surgery in late December, unless you count the hospital food service as "dining out" (I don't) or the takeout Stella occasionally brings home for us (I do). On a whim, Stella and I went to a moderately old Chinese restaurant on Holcome called Happy All. Happy All was once my favorite Chinese restaurant when I was contracting in the Texas Medical Center, I used to alter my bike route home to take in a meal there; they made excellent veggie spring rolls with peanut sauce, among other things. The food today was good but not outstanding. All eateries that last for decades have their ups and downs.

Two days of actual use on the prosthesis show that it works as advertised. It isn't perfectly comfortable yet, but part of that is my unfamiliarity. This type of prosthesis, I'm told by one therapist, is designed to place the maximum weight on a spot just below the knee of the residual limb (apparently that's the proper term for "stump"), and my upper shin is simply not accustomed to it yet. That's what the therapy is all about. I do what I can, when I can. Meanwhile, on one level, it feels truly grand to be standing on two feet again, even if one of them is supported by some sort of carbon fiber contraption. On we go...