Like a chronic illness
From that New Yorker article on commuting I linked earlier:
People like to compare commutes, to complain or boast about their own and, depending on whether their pride derives from misery or efficiency, to exaggerate the length or the brevity of their trip. People who feel they have smooth, manageable commutes tend to evangelize. Those who hate the commute think of it as a core affliction, like a chronic illness. Once you raise the subject, the testimonies pour out, and, if your ears are tuned to it, you begin overhearing commute talk everywhere: mode of transport, time spent on train/interstate/treadmill/homework help, crossword-puzzle aptitude—limitless variations on a stock tale. People who are normally circumspect may, when describing their commutes, be unexpectedly candid in divulging the intimate details of their lives. They have it all worked out, down to the number of minutes it takes them to shave or get stuck at a particular light. But commuting is like sex or sleep: everyone lies. It is said that doctors, when they ask you how much you drink, will take the answer and double it. When a commuter says, “It’s an hour, door-to-door,†tack on twenty minutes.
My commute’s about an hour. It’s actually always been that way: when I lived in Brighton Beach it took me about an hour to get to NYU, and it was also an hour to NYU from Washington Heights. It was about an hour to my last job from Washington Heights, too, and an hour to that job and my current job from Roosevelt Island. I think there’s a magical hour-long-commute property that takes effect whenever you enter a bridge or tunnel.
I do hate my commute, but with novels and my DS and my iPod it’s tolerable. I listen to more music than I probably would otherwise, since I often find things like podcasts or anything with lyrics too distracting when I’m working. I get a fair amount of reading done, when I’m not smushed up against a fragrant fellow commuter. And when I finally get to my lovely little island, I can take a bus if the weather’s shitty or have a nice little walk if it isn’t. It could be a lot worse.
Sounds similar to the London experience.
Since getting anywhere in London from my flat usually involves 30 to 50 minutes stuck in a subterranean cigar-tube on wheels, I tend not to travel without a novel carefully chosen to fit inside my jacket pocket (usually found for 50p or less at my local charity shop) and my iPod.
An arrangement that has worked so well that I seem to hardly do any reading outside the London Underground, and quite often my music is chosen on the basis of how well it mixes with the rhythmic screech of steel on steel.
Of course, half the reason for the book is because making eye contact with people in London is taken as an extremely aggressive gesture, possibly liable to getting you stabbed.
I’m guessing it is similar in NYC.
Damn. Well, el San Jo isn’t the NYC area, London, let alone LA so i’ll keep my yapper shut on the bitching. My commute’s a whole 30″-1′30″, depending on traffic, so the worse of it is not knowing what’s causing a slowdown. Is there an accident from a medical condition or did some yahoo pull a stupid, try to drive in the shoulder and ended up with his car being a new ornament for the freeway barrier? Can’t wait for the days of automated driving, where cars keep themselves fixed in a line much like train cars; as long as i can turn the feature off to dust a suped-up Metro, that is. :^)
i loved that article. i particularly like that the way they described ATL created this perfect image in my mind of hell on earth.
i live in seattle, so my commute isn’t horrible. it could be a lot worse but i pick my dwelling strategically. my current commute is a direct shot to the freeway which i ride for two miles and exit about 10 blocks from the lady’s office. then from there it’s a mile across town to my office. this all happens in 40 minutes or less. on a bad day. or i can bike a lovely tree lined trail 10 miles, which somehow takes only slightly longer.
oddly enough my last apartment was closer to downtown and took no less than an hour on a good day. go figure. i wish we had better public transit, but this city is so good at voting on exactly what they don’t want, but offer no alternatives.
My worst commute was 58 miles from my house, but the ride was anywhere from an hour to two plus. This was because I was driving through one metropolitan area (Providence) and into another (outskirts of Boston). There never is really horrible traffic in Providence unless there is a bad accident, but for a smaller city, it’s plenty. But once you get to exit 9 in MA on I-95, all bets are off. It could be running smoothly, it could be bumper to bumper. You are allowed to DRIVE IN THE SHOULDER on that stretch of 95/128 during morning and evening rush hours. This means that trying to get off an exit, or enter an on ramp is literally taking your life into your hands. Because as long as traffic is moving, it moves at like 85 mph!! And people get pissed off at you if you are in their way trying to accelerate or decelerate, or godforbid, BROKEN DOWN! It’s nuts!
The best part of that commute was that my hours were changed so that I was REQUIRED to drive at peak times. I tried to get permission to work earlier or later hours, but because I was Customer Service, I had to be there during “core hours” (9-5). It sucked so much I went to counseling for the stress and I ended up quitting a year and a half after that.
That kind of commute is the worst, because you have to pay strict attention to driving, so it’s not even like you could listen to a book on tape (and I’m a very passive driver - it’s auto pilot for me). It’s music or nothing. At least if there was a train that could have gotten me there, I could have relaxed and read or typed away on a laptop or even snoozed a little. So glad that’s over.