BREAKING NEWS: Google Transit Is Now Operational, Angelenos!

People have complained/campaigned for it, and more recently, were anticipating it, and it looks like it's finally arrived: Metro rail and bus trips are finally functional in Google Maps!

It's exciting, but not perfect; The Militant plotted a hypothetical route from Hollywood and Western in Los Angeles' Thai Town going to Marine and Inglewood avenues in Hawthorne. What was assumed as a Red/Blue/Green trip with a possible bus transfer or walk turns out to be a trip on the Red Line, the Harbor Freeway Transitway (Metro Express Line 450), the Green Line and Metro Local Line 40. Okaaaaay, then. There's still some bugs to iron out, or at the very least, a "rail only" option as is found in Metro's Trip Planner. But you heard it here first from the Militant! So far, so good, Google -- the Militant looks forward to more!

Get TAP'ped Today!

Happy March 15! Although it was a very unfavorable day for a certain Roman emperor, it's a great day if you're an occasional Metro rider. Today is the day you can purchase the $5 Metro Day Pass as a TAP card, which means like Julius Caesar, the paper Day Pass is officially history.

Until April 11, if you ride on a (M)etro Bus and ask for a Day Pass, they will give you a loaded TAP card (they will cost a one-time fee of $2 afterward). Keep This Card! you will be able to re-load it for $5 every time you go to a (M) ticket machine or on your next bus ride. No more fumbling for change and holding up the line to get into the bus (well, unless you pay for your $5 Day Pass with coins...)

And then you can do the cool stuff like this:




Actually, as an experienced TAP user, the Militant strongly recommends that you do not even have to take out the card. You can keep it in your wallet or purse, just as long as you place either of them directly on the TAP target. The Militant personally puts his wallet over the target and it does the beepy thing. And if you're slick enough, you can even keep your wallet in your pocket and plnt your ass on the TAP target...okay, the Militant wouldn't recommend that (especially on the bus), but it may or may not work when you have to rush to your train. TAP cards use an RFID chip embedded into the card to tell its value and to easily track ridership figures and patterns.

The regular monthly, senior, disabled, college and K-12 passes are all TAP-capable. Next comes the big test: TAP cards for cash fare riders, where riders can prepay a certain amount and have the appropriate fare cost deducted when they TAP. This is all part of a years-long program to eventually get all Southern California transit systems TAPpin.

So Stay Militant and Get TAPpin!

GASP! SHOCK! The Militant Rides Transit To Work - For The First Time!

The Militant would like to make a humbling confession - despite all his Militancy, before today, he has not taken transit to his current workplace.

Now, the Militant has taken transit to work before. He has worked various jobs in Downtown Los Angeles in the late '90s and gladly rode the subway there. More recently, in a job he worked at up until summer of last year, he was known around the office as "the dude who rode his bicycle to work."

But he has an excuse. Without giving away exactly where or what line of work he does, it is not a regular 9-5 job, and most of it is done during the weekends. So when he drives to work, there is usually very little traffic congestion on the road.

Having said that, the Militant has a bad habit of leaving the compound at the very last possible minute, which usually results in dangerously fast speeds, risky turns, cutting lanes, and various cuss words. It's actually a miracle he has never gotten involved in an accident this way.

But fortunately for the people on the road, the Militant had a $5 (M) Day Pass in his hand today and thought, "Why the heck not." With a Day Pass, there's no stopping the Militant.

The commute involved a ride on the Red Line, a transfer to a Metro Rapid line, and if necessary, a short ride on a connecting line, although the last bus trip was walkable enough that it was just an option.

The Militant rode past an unspecified number of stops on the subway, finally alighting at the Wilshire/Vermont station, emerging from the shadows of the brand new transit-oriented development there to hop on to a (M) Rapid 720 bus, which had just arrived. Yes, it was crowded and packed, but the Militant still found ample room to stand comfortably. He actually liked the very urban rush and felt like an active participant of the city (not that he never is). He could have taken a Purple Line transfer at Wilshire/Vermont to get to Wilshire/Western quicker, but at least this way meant one less transfer to worry about. The bus trudged on slowly in traffic in the one mile between Vermont and Western, but after leaving the density of K-Town and into Hancock Park, the bus picked up speed dramatically. In no time it had arrived at La Brea Avenue, right next to the (M) Customer Service Center (pictured above - hey, what's that little orange critter doing up there?). The Militant could have walked the next few blocks to his workplace, but it had started to drizzle at that point (to the Militant's delight, as the rain would have helped clear the air and hasten the firefighting efforts of the wildfires), so he caught the (M) Local 212 La Brea bus to his final destination.

Of course, what a wonderful would it would be if the Purple Line went that far today. Still, though the bus still pales in comparison to a nice, smooth electrically-propelled train ride, riding the bus these days is waaaaaaay more enjoyable that it was in the days of the era of the Rough, Tough and Dirty's annoyingly vibrating buses with the "cockroach brown" interiors (not just their color, but their ability to camouflage such vermin). Also those buses of yesteryear had pushbutton strips that hardly ever worked, so missing your stop was a common occurrence, even worse when the bus was so packed you couldn't even reach the exit in time.

Today, buses have clearly articulate pre-recorded "next" stop" announcements, have much more brighter interiors and though those TransitTV LED screens on buses are an annoyance in themselves, they're actually not that bad in helping pass the time away. So bus riders of today: You actually got it good.

When all was said and done, it was 30 minutes, only 10 minutes longer than driving, and minus the potential stress and risk of getting into an accident. Plus, he arrived earlier than usual.

Getting to work was a breeze, but heading back to the compound wasn't as convenient, though he was in no immediate rush anyway. Two 720 Rapid buses, both packed to the gills, passed by him and the crowd of people waiting at the La Brea/Wilshire Rapid stop. Ad to that the fact that for the Militant...how does the Militant put this...nature not only called, she was blowin' up his gastrointestinal cellphone. There was none of those JCDecaux self-cleaning Metro Latrines anywhere in sight (the closest one was in Downtown), so he just held it steady for a while.

Eventually the Rapid came and the Militant alighted the bus at Normandie where he crossed the street and headed to the Wilshire Plaza Hotel (formerly the Radisson Wilshire). Urban Survival Tip #1: When ya gotta go, hotel lobbies have the cleanest public restrooms anywhere.

Finally, after having completed his, er, business, he walked around Wilshire for a bit, hitting up a nearby ATM and hopped on the Purple Line for a stop before heading back to his compound on the Red Line.

Later that night, he had to attend the birthday festivities of an operative in the West Valley. Certainly he could have continued the use of the Day Pass and taken the Red and Orange lines there, but he knew he would have been out past the end of the operating hours of both lines, so he drove there, and there was no traffic whatsoever to worry about at that time. But doing so wasn't hypocrisy at all, as the Militant is not dependent on a singe form of transportation, and embraces all the choices he has at his disposal.

The Bike Path To Summer

Although Memorial Day weekend was over a month ago, and the Summer Solstice came and went last week, for this Militant, it's not Summer until I visit the beach. Having some work responsibilities wrapped up by early afternoon, I found a unique window of opportunity to hit the coast on Thursday.

Since 1993, I've inaugurated the arrival of Summer with a ride down the 22-mile South Bay Bike Path.

Despite the beach being outside my driving ban territory, I still decided to save some gas anyway by taking advantage of Metro's new Rapid Line 704, which supposedly gets me to Santa Monica in an hour. To my dismay, the bus wasn't on time (or maybe I missed the last one?) and it wasn't a fancy red-colored bus, but rather a regular poppy-orange Metro Local with a "704 Santa Monica" headsign. Nevertheless, the bike went on the front rack, the iPod went in my ears, and I was on my way.

It did take about an hour to reach the beach, not bad. I disembarked at Colorado and started pedaling, passing the throngs of digital camera-snapping summer tourists outside iconic Santa Monica Pier sign, crossing the curiously-named Moomat Ahiko Way -- which is native American Chumash for "Breath of the Ocean" and not after some Arab-Japanese fellow as I had previously thought. Within a few minutes, I was finally on The Path.

My destination, the end of the path at Torrance County Beach was a virtually-unseen point in the distance, past the slight haze created by coastal moisture. Riding on the path during the summer is a unique experience; the sum beats down on your back and arms yet your face is cooled by the moist sea air, rewarded frequently by the delicate coastal breezes. The experience is just not the same during the winter, where it's considerably colder, and the flat, spanning aesthetic of the beach is dramatically altered by storm berms bulldozed in the sand. Yes, I can always come here in the winter, but I don't like to.

Having breezed past the Venice Boardwalk on my summer bike rides on The Path, I decided to play "tourist" and simply walk my bike along the Boardwalk (a misnomer since it's simply pavement). It was my first time on the actual Boardwalk since helping a friend visiting from Philadelphia realize her dream of rollerblading in Venice Beach a decade ago (for my newbie rollerblading ass though, it was a muscle-aching nightmare). Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be a tourist. If all I saw of Angelenos were stoned-out smelly dudes strumming guitars while selling ersatz paintings or hawking henna designs, I might not like this town all that much. Although I must report that I spotted the Silver Lake Walking Dude of all people, in all his sunburned glory, here on the Venice Boardwalk, well outside his home environs.

After Venice Beach, I got back on the bike and rode through the "street" segment of The Path, crossing one of Abbot Kinney's few surviving canals and navigating the perimeter of Marina Del Rey, finally reaching a dedicated bike path again where it junctions with the Ballona Creek Path. I think I'll shut up for now and let the pictures speak for themselves:

Gigantic crane birds (center) hang out in the Ballona Wetlands --

the last piece of land untouched since the native Tongva tribe roamed the area.

The Del Rey Lagoon, just south of Ballona Creek,
is the last vestige of a large span of marshland
that would eventually be dredged to create The Marina.

Looking back north, The El Segundo Power Plant hums and churns
while surfers ride the waves just yards away.

The surfer's monument at Hermosa Beach Pier.

The path ends here, next to the fortress-like cliffs of the Palos Verdes Peninsula.

Looking back, to think I came all this way.
Santa Monica can hardly be seen in the distance.

The sand, the surf, the foam, the kelp, the easy feeling of a
summer evening in Southern California.

When the sun sets over the Pacific...

My Summer initiation ritual is not complete without baptizing myself in the waters of the Pacific (okay, just a knee-deep wade would suffice this time), reminding me that I've completed my journey, and forming a connection to my ancestors who have similarly waded the other side. As the sun set, some music provided by the iPod orchestra completed the mood, of a day finishing off its business in this part of the world.

Now time for the journey back.

With night approaching, the environment suddenly changes, and it's not necessarily for the worse. The moist sea air embraced me like an invisible blanket, keeping me relatively warm as I speed through the cold of night. Pier lights served as decorative strings jutting out into the dark, unknown expanse of the ocean. As I raced back towards Santa Monica and the receding layer of remaining post-dusk sunlight fades into bands of orange and purple, the bonfires of Doheny State Beach formed seemed to form their own runway perpendicular to the paths of jet planes roaring above.

Come 9 p.m., in the dark, unlit expanses of Playa Del Rey, I felt like a western Pioneer navigating towards unknown territory, with only a small bike light guiding my way. Daunting, yes, but really very exciting. The full moon also provided quite a sight with its light reflecting on the waters of Ballona Creek (photo right).

But once I reached Santa Monica, the quiet solace of the beach at night ended suddenly, with the lights of the Pacific Park blaring on the Pier and throngs of people walking around both on the Path and on the sand. The energy of this beach continued as if the sun had never set. A free valet service was set up to accommodate people's bikes next to the path, and the lot was mostly full.

Navigating the Santa Monica streets by the 3rd Street Promenade, I had long left the dark, silent solitude of the beach at night and was back in the city again, waiting for the 4 bus to take my bike and my tired Militant self back home.

Yes. Summer is finally here.

When Ya Gotta Go, Go Metro!

Looks like the automatic pay toilets have hit my hood. A brand new Metro Latrine is being installed at the Metro Rail Vermont/Santa Monica station. About time, I say. Maybe the Metro Bus stop across the street won't reek of urine anymore. A week ago, the news racks were removed from the site, a rectangular hole dug out of the pavement and a large concrete base installed. When a water main was spotted protruding from the base, I knew it was Potty Time. The toilet, an off-the-shelf model by international street advertising company JCDecaux is identical to ones seen in Downtown, as well as in Frisco, Chicago and Paris.
A closer look at the pay toilet gave way to a definite nod to Los Angeles' rich diversity. Instructions on how to use the toilets are also given in German and French (pictured left), because, we all know that Los Angeles is famous for its large Deutsch- and Français- speaking immigrant communities. Oh well, it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or nationality you are. You might be an American outside the toilet, but inside... You're-A-Peein.'