I got off the train on Thursday, and found myself in the cleanest MARTA station I’ve ever seen. The platform didn’t smell like pee or filth. The escalators were all working. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to go, I looked wildly at the wayfinding signs, and randomly picked, and went up the escalator. At the top, I found myself at a security checkpoint in a Georgia State Building.  I quickly found out I was in the wrong place, and made my way outside.

Outside the building, I looked up into the sky and the first thing I saw was shiny, golden dome of the Georgia State Capitol.  Immediately I was taken back.  I was probably in the third grade, and my class went on a field trip to another state capitol. It was beautiful. All I remember is that the seats and carpets were deep burgundy and sooooo soft. The dome (are domes required on capitol buildings?) was stately, but opulent, with different colored glass and gold filigree.  I remember our tour guide telling us that the building was newly renovated. I was starstruck. I remember thinking—I wanna work in a place that’s this cool when I grow up.

Then I was taken to another time. I was 22 and driving to DC.  It wasn’t my first trip to DC, but this trip was special. I was in town for an interview, it was the middle of the worst year of my life, and it was my first trip to DC by myself as an adult.  I was on the interstate, and I remember looking over the city. It was so pretty and glittery and POWERFUL!! I fell in love with DC immediately, and I fall more in love every time I’m there.

I was so excited and I couldn’t hold it in. I just hooped and hollered and did a jig in the car. It was so exciting. I had to call my friends and scream “I’M IN DC!!!!!” And because my friends are awesome, they yelled along with me.

All of a sudden, I’m snapped back to all the times over the past two years in MPA school where I’ve emphatically declared that under no circumstances would I consider a job in state government. ‘It’s a bureaucracy!’, I’d say. ‘Nothing ever gets done there!’, I’d say. ‘It’s too big!”, I’d say.

But there I was, about to walk into that big domed building. I just shook my head. I whispered under my breath, “Never say never.”

I’m tired of having a period. I swear, I’d sell both my ovaries and all my eggs for $50,000. I’ve eaten so many advil (and other stronger painkillers) over the past 24 hours that I’m sure my liver is MAD at me. If I could go back to the Garden of Eden, I’d whup Eve’s ass myself.

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I was never bitten by the Obama bug, the only reason I voted for him in the primary was because I was angry and disappointed in the way Hillary continued to run her campaign. And honestly, I identified more with John Edwards’ politics than Hill or Obama. So when I hear interviews on the radio like I did yesterday where the interviewer is an obvious Obama dickrider I get really annoyed because I know that nothing substantive is going to come out of the interview.

Or today, when the same radio station had three candidates (one incumbent and two newcomers) talking about what they would do in Congress and it’s clear that the newcomers are completely clueless idiots that are talking bullshit and are backing policies that A. Won’t get passed; B. Wouldn’t work anyway; C. Makes them look stupid. It starts my day on the wrong foot because I end up with a headache from yelling at the radio.

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On the Marta train yesterday we were packed in like sardines. And I had to stand up on a lurching train for about 20 minutes. Another person that was also standing yelled to the crowd that this wouldn’t happen on the North South train and that the only way that things would get better is if we call MARTA and complain.

Part of me wants to agree, surely we can change things through our voices, but part of me knows that as crappy as the East-West trains are, I can’t afford to drive to work everyday. I bought gas today at $4.03 a gallon and my heart broke a little. So regardless of the quality of the train, I really don’t have any other transportation options. And many of the people who are riding the MARTA are in worse financial condition than I am. I wonder how many complaints MARTA got last night.

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I still have a month to go in my internship, but I’m already thinking about what I’m going to do for work when I get back. I have some feelers out, and I already have one offer on the table. I want make the best decision, but I don’t know what that means! Doc Barnes would tell me to stop worrying and just make a decision. And this book I’m reading Blink, says that thinking a problem to death does not increase your chances of making a better decision. *sigh*

Would the train smell any better? LOL, probably not. I generally don’t smell like flowers in the afternoon because I do not wear deodorant and it’s hotter than hell in Atlanta. Yes, you read correctly. I do not wear deodorant, and I haven’t in years. But that is a story for another day.

But there are a lot of super stinky people on the train, and they all like to sit near me. But that’s not important. The important thing is that I see so many different types of people on the MARTA train. I try to create stories for them or figure out the kind of life they have and what they do for a living.

I people watch. Even though I always have a book (or three) and my ipod, when I’m on the train I prefer to look at the people. I don’t like to listen to them, gosh, listening to the really talkative people on the train gives me a headache.

I have ridden every train in Atlanta (not on purpose) and there are distinct types of people who ride each train. I normally ride the East-West Line to get to work every day. Last week, I had to ride the North line to drop my car at a long-term lot so I could go to my sis’s graduation. Later, to the airport I had to ride the South train. When I got back to NC and I had to pick up my car I accidentally got on the Northeast line and ended up in f*cking Doraville, which threw me about 45 minutes behind, by the way. Then I had to turn around and go back and get on my correct train.

So, because of my adventures in Atlanta, I know my trains, and I can identify the kinds of people that ride each train. The most pronounced difference is between the northern trains and all the others.

The northern trains (those coming from and heading to Dunwoody and Doraville) have lots of very professional-looking people. Lots of Asian people (computer geeks, my stereotypical guess), and young-ish and middle aged suburban, professional, middle and upper middle class, houses worth upwards of 250K, white commuters. Polos and pink and blue button downs, khakis, ladies in broaches and DKNY and men in golf clothes, wrinkled, sun-glassed and looking at me but not smiling back at me people. There are very few other minorities on these trains (unless they are getting off at one of the mall stops). Another huge difference on this train is that you have to sit beside someone on this train, it is always full and people expect you to slide over so they can sit with you. Which is cool, I’m just used to riding the East-West train.

On the other trains, I almost never let anyone sit with me, or sit with anyone else (unless it’s an old lady). I made the mistake of sitting beside someone during my first week in Atlanta, I thought the guy that I sat with was going to have a fit. On these trains, people would prefer to stand up rather than to sit beside someone else.

Also, the East-West and South trains are FULL of black people. All kinds of black people (and other people). Toothless, dirty, unclean, crazy, screaming, drunk, stinky, hippie, tattooed, and homeless people. Cool-looking artist/student types, wigs, weaves, locs, long and short, naturals, professionals, government workers, old ladies, flip flops, 3 inch heels, loafers, jellies, teenaged or just young looking mothers and babies (like, 5 babies), pretty boys, service workers, teenaged kids, poor people, middle-class commuters. All kinds.

The compelling thing isn’t who I see and what they look like, though I wish I could take pictures of them, seeing them could be so powerful. The very small ethical part of me can’t do it. Damn you, morality!!! Anyway, what is compelling is where all these people come from. All the people are coming into the city from their homes, and their homes are in distinctly different places.

One of the things that I hate about Atlanta is its size. Its huge and its sprawling. Atlanta is huge all by itself, and then when you add all the little suburban towns, the ATL metro is massive. Atlanta, like all large cities, has lots of black people, mostly poor, living in the inner city and most of the white people living in the suburbs.

This bothers me. I don’t care (too much) about where people live. What I care about is the differences in the school systems, crime rates, types of grocery stores, number of boarded up buildings, number of liquor stores, dirty streets, lack of grass, decent housing, graffittied walls.

Take a guess about where the better schools are, which has lower crime rates, who has the better, fresher produce and meat, which has more boarded up buildings and more rodents, where the streets are dirtier, who has the best greenspace, and where the better houses are (even the affordable ones)…..

Yep, I know. Exactly. And that’s what bothers me.