An Open Letter to Logan Airport

Dear Logan,

It is with great regret that I must inform you that my golden days of enjoying air travel are waning. With this is mind, I wish to relate to you afterthoughts from a recent experience in your airport.

• If a location exists within the airport that, theoretically, might be a place people would want to go, adequate signage is imperative. For example, if one’s goal is to reach “Terminal B”, it should be easily accessible from “Terminal A”. It is not acceptable to post several teaser signs only to have travelers arrive at a vast expanse of open space devoid of any further direction to “Terminal B”.
• All maps must include a “You Are Here” indicator.
• If “Gate 9b” exists within the elusive “Terminal B”, it is again wise to provide some guidance as to how to reach said location. This is useful in validating that the gate actually exists and is not a figment of the “Departures” screen’s imagination. It is not helpful to gleefully and repeatedly direct travelers toward “Gates 22-36″ and “Gates 37-73″ with no mention of gates 1-21.
• It is paramount that connecting travelers not be subjected to a second security check within the airport. This may result in the following: a) forgetting that one purchased a (greater than 3-ounce) bottle of juice, expecting to hold onto it until one was good and ready to drink it, and b) forgetting that one painstakingly packed toiletries in the required 3-ounce containers within the mandatory Ziploc™ bag, causing one to leave them in one’s bag and subsequently panic that one may be subjected to a Homeland Security interrogation, only to find that the security employees won’t even notice these errant items.
• It might be useful to train security check employees to be more selective about the interpretation of possibly lethal items. It is very, very frustrating to stand in Security Lane 1, which happens to be the only one open, only to hear the constant drone of “Bag check! Bag check on one!” It is also ironic when one’s potentially dangerous shampoo sails through the scanner without comment.
• Do not allow yuppie chains with names like “Curritos: Burritos WIthout Borders” to set up shop.
• Provide recycling bins.

In short, do not cause travelers to wander in circles desperately hoping that a magic trapdoor to “Gate B9b” will open, only to present the fabulous consolation prize of a second trip through security. Also, be more selective regarding dining options, and give people a non-landfill option for the disposal of plastic bottles containing juice rapidly chugged before the unexpected security visit.

Janna
Resigned Traveler

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Attention to Detail

A woman boards the N Judah in the financial district, sporting the following:

• A beautiful wool coat that fits perfectly, either because she has the figure of a model or because it was custom tailored
• Flawlessly applied makeup that strikes the perfect balance between Fresh-Faced Youth and Socialite With an Agenda
• Hair so expertly highlighted it could almost, but not quite, be attributed to genetics instead of a pricey stylist
• Two identically designed shoes, each of which match her outfit, despite the fact that they are different colors

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We Are, Like, Generally AMAZING!

My vote for best press release title ever:

Caltrain Reports Impressive Progress On All Fronts

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On the Go

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Grateful

Setting: A crowded car on the Richmond BART line, Thanksgiving afternoon. An uncomfortable captive audience looks on as a silent man is accosted by a drunk woman whose voice and demeanor are eerily reminiscent of Nancy’s in Sid and Nancy (”but Siiiiiiid! What about the farewell Dwuuuuuugs!?!”). The couple have a perhaps six-year old child and stroller-bound infant in tow.

Woman: I hate you, Larry. You’re such an asshole. Fuck you, Larry.

- Larry studies the stains in the nasty BART carpet -

Woman: I’ve given ten years of my life to you. Ten years of my —-

Child: Mommy?
Woman: (to child) Shush! I hate you!

- Child begins to cry -

Woman: Ten years. You’re such an asshole.

- Larry begins to wish he were a stain on a nasty BART carpet, instead of a human being with the capacity to be humiliated -

Woman: Rot in hell, Larry. Fuck you.

Woman sitting next to Janna: (to Janna) Happy fucking Thanksgiving, eh?
Janna: No kidding.

Narrator: The moral of this story: if no one yelled obscenities at you in a public place today, you have something to be grateful for.

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving from Project Janna. Give someone a hug today, and be glad you aren’t degraded by people you love. If you are, get help.

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N Love

San Francisco’s public transportation system consists of a variety of options for getting from Point A to Point B. There’s BART, the subway system that attracts birds to its underground platforms; the tourist-happy cable car option; garden-variety buses; and, my favorite, the light rail.

There’s a good reason I prefer the light rail: aside from BART, I’ve never actually used any of the other methods. When your repertoire is limited, your “fave” is going to be something you’ve actually encountered. My experience with the light rail itself is spotty as well: of the five possible routes, I’ve only traveled one. Aside from a brief flirtation with the J Church (which I wisely opted to end before getting carried away), I have maintained a monogamous relationship with the N Judah.

Why the N? Well, first of all, we have a lot in common. The N and I hang out in the same places - the Upper and Lower Haight; Cole Valley; the Sunset; Ocean Beach. We both have Ns in our names (I have 3! JaNNa LaureN). We both … well, maybe that’s where it ends. However, we also understand each other. I tolerate the N’s flakiness. After all, who needs reliability in public transportation? That’s just plain Fascist. The N, for its part, allows me to take art-y photographs of its interior, and never complains when I open its doors with a satisfying kick.

I suppose we’ll have to move on eventually. I’ll find some sort of worthwhile activity in, say, Noe Valley, and I’ll be forced to explore a relationship with the J. After all, J as in Church complements J as in Janna. Until then, however, the N remains my one and only.

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BART Bird

Underground at the 24th Mission BART Station the other day:

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