b Papa Dog's Blog: Missed Connection

Papa Dog's Blog

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Friday, July 29, 2005

Missed Connection

Tonight we ventured through the Caldecott Tunnel to the lands where Whitey lives; specifically, Lafayette*; specifically to Chow, where Mama Dog had a hankering for hamburger. We’d had kind of a stressful and frustrating homecoming, compared to yesterday. Work kept me late again, and there were rumours in the afternoon that there had been some sort of bomb scare at the BART station. I wasn’t even sure if it would be open when I got there. It was. I called Mama Dog from the platform to let her know, but she was in the middle of dealing with a huge and nearly unprecedented Baby Dog tantrum. “I’ll call when I get to Rockridge—” I started. “No, don’t call,” she said. “Just come home!” Through the tunnel I worried idly about the train blowing up and wondering whether the explosion would do me in or if it would be the tons of bay water flooding the tunnel that would do it. Once out of the tunnel, I started to worry instead about the drama at home. It was getting later and later and neither of us had eaten. I resolved to cab home to speed things up. Having resolved that, I got re-absorbed in my book, which I’m almost finished, and failed to notice the train had left MacArthur until it was almost to Rockridge. I got up and hurried back a couple of cars, but was too late to position myself at the door that would let out at the top of the escalator. I had to fight my way down the platform amid the hoi polloi and then contend with slow-moving double-wide non-commuters down both the platform stairs and the station stairs. I despaired of a cab being left by the time I got out, but there were two. I hopped in the lead cab, gave my address – and we promptly got stuck behind someone spaced out in the turn lane, yielding to traffic that would maybe be arriving sometime mid-day tomorrow. It was starting to feel like a bad dream, or at least a bad Seinfeld episode. The cabbie took the long way around. Of course. What else?

When I entered the house, I was surprised that Doggy Dog, like the dog in Silver Blaze, did not bark. I heard the sound of Halmonie singing Baby Dog to sleep. I looked around. No sign of either Mama Dog or Doggy Dog. Of course. I pulled out my mobby and belled her. She and Doggy Dog were waiting for me at the bottom of the pedway steps at the BART station.

All’s swell that ends swell. I walked right back out to meet Mama Dog. On the way, I passed a woman who had been on the same car as me. She probably thought I’d lapped her.

Mmmm…I was going to continue on with the story of our dinner at Chow and the odd characters seated on either side of us, but it’s getting late and I’m getting tired, so I’m going to call it a night. Maybe I’ll finish this tomorrow.
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*If you follow that link, note the claim that Lafayette is a 25 minute BART ride from San Francisco. This is a puzzling lie. It takes 31 minutes to make it from Lafayette to Embarcadero under best-case conditions. Perhaps they’re counting it as 25 minutes to some point under the bay where there’s a theoretical border between Alameda and San Francisco Counties?

2 Comments:

Blogger Twizzle said...

Holy shit, Batman -- Lafayette is 86.8% white, down from 93% in 1990! Can you guess what this decrease in whiteness is attributable to? The influx of Asian Americans!

8:52 AM  
Blogger Judy said...

See? I just can't even fathom this whole commuter-train stuff...we have nothing like that here, and I will be such the tourist one day when and if I ever get to a place that DOES have commuter trainish stuff that I'll probably be trampled!

12:31 PM  

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