In the Seattle spring into summer more and more tourists take the train to and from Sea-Tac and more and more chuffers take bikes on the train. The after-thought bike storage design on Sound Transit train cars sets cyclists up for run-ins with tourists with giant rolling suitcases. With only two bike hooks on older train cars and four on the newer cars, they say it’s first-come first-served.
Northbound at 6am in Rainier Beach, it’s no big deal. But at 4pm heading toward Sea-Tac it can be comical as well as frustrating. For many of these people it’s their one and only time riding a train to the airport and I’m viewing it all through the agitated eyes of a crustier than thou crusty commuter. I’m no Pete Rose, I’m more like the Lou Gehrig of crusty commuters with 2,721 train rides and counting… …10 or more rides per week, 500+ rides per year.
For a moment I imagine how I look through their entitled eyes… …just some asshole with a bike that steps on and slaps it up there on the hook only to sit right down and read a book. The worn out water bottle burping up backwash dripping dribbling dinkling hanging at an awkward unnatural negative 12 degree angle the bike swinging swaying swooping with the drive side pedal slamming the wall at each stop & start and the non drive side chainstay rubbing road grime on their Samsonite.
My grimy bike swinging on the bike hook says with a smile: Welcome to Seattle. Enjoy your stay. Your hotel & restaurant taxes are paying for our stadiums. Your rental car taxes too. Have you been to the Market? The Space Needle? The Ballard Locks?
Last week, a family of four boarded a very crowded southbound train at Beacon Hill. Each member of the family was wearing a carry-on bag and rolling a large suitcase. They all congregated around my bike which was hanging next to another bike. The mom stuffed her rolling suitcase in, next to the two bikes and never took her hand off it. (this is a common behavior displayed by airport travelers: at least one hand on their suitcase at all times, white-knuckling the shit out of it, as if it could be snatched away at any moment) The dad and the kids stood awkwardly in the accordion center section of the car with all their luggage. I was less than 3 feet away on my way home at the end of the day.
The dad was literally touching my bike. Stroking the top tube logo, grabbing the stem, the bars and trying the brake levers, saying “Hey Honey what do you think of this setup? Look at these bars, a more upright position… …could be for you… …but the stem’s too long, too low” she says, “yeah maybe but it’s kinda funny, cruiser bars, weird, that’s not a cruiser frame but those are cruiser bars. So weird. Funny. Weird. Weird.”
Their bike conversation focusing on the setup of my bike, didn’t bother me, bikes are cool. I like bikes. The dad stroking my bike didn’t really bother me too much because, after all, it’s a $40 used bike from Bike Works.
What did bother me was when I needed to extract my bike and get off the train —2 stops later -–the family didn’t budge an inch. They stayed glued to their fucking rolling suitcases in their exact position and I had to make a real effort to get my bike off the hook and get the fuck out of there with out road-grime-fender-strut-chain-lubing their khaki pants.
The mom blushed as I passed within a foot of her, saying “oh we were just talking about your bike.” I said nothing, thinking: no shit, I was 3 feet away from you the entire time, watching your husband stroke my bike, and that’s all good but now I’m trying to get the fuck off this train in Columbia City and it would be cool if all yall step away from your luggage for one second.
A couple days ago a guy boarded with a rolling bike travel bag the size of Texas. (You know the bags that hold your road bike and your wheels with no need to pull your seat post. It’s that big. Fucking HUGE. Deep and wide) I’m sure the bag alone cost more than all of my bikes and the bike inside cost way way way more than all of my family’s bikes combined. I didn’t see any team logos or sponsors or product placement on the bike bag or the guy’s getup, so I guessed he was just an enthusiastic cycle tourist.
He attempted to cram his big bad bike case into the cubby next to my bike on the hook. About 23% of it fit in there and the rest blocked the aisle while he kept it in place with his foot.
When the train got into the 98118 I hoisted my bike off the hook and over the guy’s legs and bike case and said “is this the beginning, or the end of your epic journey?” the beginning, he said. “word” I said telepathically.
At the end of that same train car another south bound traveler had a luggage cart overflowing with bags and bags and bags and random shit including a skateboard and shredded 12-pack of Rainier. Over the 6 seats he was occupying with his yard sale sprawl, there were a few full beer cans that he continued to offer other travelers while he never stopped his double-fisted ramble-on about how his time in prison interrupted the time he was a sponsored skateboarder. The best part of it all was the looks on the nearby traveler’s faces as they couldn’t get to Sea-Tac fast enough.
I’ll have what he’s having, I said to myself, first-come first-served my ass.
THIS AREA FOR
BICYCLES OR
LUGGAGE ON A
FIRST-COME
FIRST-SERVED BASIS
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