OH HIP, WHY IS THY STING?

A few weeks back, I waxed poetic in this column about the virtues of public transport, and now I'm sorry to say, having worked the process steadily for the past few weeks, I think I've changed my mind. It's not the commute itself that's so taxing; psychologically, the biggest problem is me because I stubbornly maintain I shouldn't have to travel on someone elses schedule. A quick look at prices at the pump and parking expenses brings be down to reality though and I accept the realization that it just makes more sense to belong to that Big Brotherhood of Commuters.

Having accepted that fact however, I have to say that the next obstacle to public transport is downright stubborness of a different nature; the unwillingness of my body to accept a daily brisk walk of eight-tenths of a mile to and from the train station. Let me cut the tongue-cluckers who claim exercise is good for me at the pass: I'm already in good pphysical fitness for a woman of that "certain" age, but the problem is a rather dodgy hip that began giving me problems several years back. I don't know if it's bursitis, arthritis, or some other type of "itis", but I can count on at least two excrutiatingly long (read: two weeks or more) episodes of extreme hip pain which magically disappears for reasons only known to the Divine Healer, and, perhaps, the makers of Excedrin Arthritis Pain Relief.

Unfortunately, my bi-yearly hip torture session chose the week after I returned to commuting to make its reappearance, and the summer heat an accompanying humidity have only served to worsen the situation. Normally, I would grin and bear it -- well, bite down on a rope and bear it, if I'm honest -- haul myself into/out of the car/bed/chair, and get on with it until the hip fairy came to alleviate the pain. But now, thanks to commuting, it'a whole new painful ballgame. In addition to the exquisitely painful eight-tenths of a mile walk I have the torture of alighting and departing buses, all of which seem to have extremely steep steps, the torture of subway stations whose escalators never seem to be operational, and the pressure from other commuters who don't seem to understand constant pain and are always urging one to hurry up.

To add insult to injury, the onset of this most recent eposide begain one week after the start of a new job; the time meant to be absorbed in learning and understanding; not pain and swelling. So now I have a fresh, valid reason to curse public transport, miss my car, and hate middle-age. But, no worries, when it all passes and hip health is restored to it's usual self, I'll be writing about how my daily walk has made me fitter, how I'm saving money on gas by commuting, and how content I am with life in general.

Until then, pass over the heating pad and Excedrin Arthritis tablets, please.

IN PRAISE OF PUBLIC TRANSPORT

Long, long ago, in a state far, far away (California, that is), I fell in love with public transport. I fell so much in love in fact, that the picture accompanying this column is not from the current line of Los Angeles-based "MTA" buses, but is the picture of a circa 1980's "RTD" (Los Angeles Rapid Transport District) bus. I was ideally suited to ride the RTD when I lived in Los Angeles. Not only at 50 cents per ride was it affordable, but from my home one-half block north of Hollywood Boulevard, I could catch a bus going practically anywhere there was to go in Los Angeles without worry of fluctuating gas prices, exorbitant insurance rates, or the worry that I may come home one evening to find an automobile stripped, and sitting atop cinder blocks.

The ride from home to work (Beverly Hills) consisted of one bus trip (Downtown Los Angeles-Santa Monica on the Number 1 route); if I stayed too long at happy hour at the Rangoon Racquet Club, I could always take a Number 4 and transfer to a 429 at the intersection of Sunset and La Brea without missing a beat. Weekend activities were equally simple; Santa Anita racetrack, Santa Monica Beach, and the Beverly Center shopping mall were all easily reachable via courtesy of the RTD, and my monthly bus pass with the cartoon "smiley bus" imprinted on the card.

As much as I was in love with public transport however, these feelings quickly turned to hate when I moved back to Washington DC where, as I've said in this column before, the shortest distance between Point A and Point B is most definitely, a cube. In addition to the established "Metro" service, the largest carrier in the Washington metropolitan region, there was also an alarming assortment of local carriers; OmniRide, MARC, DASH, ATC; the acronyms spell out half the alphabet. I suppose this arrangement was meant to make life easier for commuters in the DC environs, but it only served to confuse me to the point of vowing never to take public transport again.

But now, I'm ready to say I'm wrong. If I'm honest, I really don't have much choice when it comes to my commuting change-of-heart; the new employment position I accepted is located in an area of Washington DC that, while accessible by car, simply isn't worth the money for parking, gas, and the man-hours lost sitting in the slug-paced parking lot known as Interstate 395. So with cheerful resignation this week, for the first time since my days in Los Angeles, I've taken up being a full-time commuter.

As public transport goes, my commute is fairly easy; a short walk to the bus stop (which is so close to my house I can see it from my sofa as I write); about ten further stops through a quiet, leafy suburban area of town then directly onto the freeway HOV lane for a short trip to the huge underground station at the Pentagon. If I time it correctly, there's no more than a five minute wait for the first "Blue Line" train, then only two subsequent stops before I reach my final destination, "Foggy Bottom". If I'm honest, the most difficult part of this commute is walking the .40m final leg of the journey to and from the office, but I console myself knowing that the slowly diminishing pain in my thighs means I'm getting in shape, and I've even calculated how much extra junk food I can eat with the calories I burn every day (riding public transport means you have time on your hands to work these things out in your head). Cost? $5.20 round trip which is a bit pricier than what I currently pay in gas, but the alternative to public transport isn't very attractive.

Should my gear-head's desire to drive to work win out, I'll be trapped into a monthly parking fee of between $275-$325 per month (assuming I can get a space), then there's fuel for my gas-guzzling Subaru which is currently $3.09 per gallon and rising. And the drive-time? Only a Washingtonian would believe that a one-way trip of less than seven miles means at least thirty minutes at a complete stand-still while the bus whizzes past in the HOV lane.

Let's face facts, these days it just makes more sense to take public transport. On the whole, it's less expensive than driving and time-wise more reliable on a daily basis than driving. And the best reason to take public transport these days? Wherever public transport is going most frequently is more likely where the jobs are. It may not be fun, but its simple economics.

Now, get on the bus.