Our Journey to FACES: The Light Rail Train

Amanda and I didn’t want to run the risk of crashing our cars (or even worse, contracting a DUI), so we decided to ride the Light Rail train into the heart of Sacramento. The plan: get on the train, survive the train ride, walk 8 blocks to the night club, FACES, and dance the night away with Kellie Edson and friends. 

Our plan of attack was sound. We were to get to-and-from downtown Sac by using public transportation.  Amanda’s mom, Jan, drove us to the Light Rail where we waited in her car. The empty parking lot was dimly lit, and small trees wrestled with the wind. Only one passenger sat outside under the glow of florescent light bulbs. The anticipation of the train’s arrival shook my stomach. Every few seconds, I would look over my shoulder (and we sat there for ten minutes—I probably looked nuts). The idea of public transportation really excited me (in my opinion, America needs to get their butt in gear to make public transportation work).

Light Rail’s core inhabited faded, soft blue cushions. With the exception of one elderly gentleman wearing lime green, tie-dyed socks, Amanda and I had the cabin to ourselves (at least for the beginning of our trip).  The train shook violently—similarly to the Matterhorn in Disneyland—and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see out the window. So instead, I stared at my reflection.

I took the opportunity to document my experience by taking photos. Who knew that blue cushions could excite me so? By our third or fourth stop, people began to fill the cabin.  Soon enough, a middle-aged gentleman sat in the seats across from us. He really wanted to sell us bus tickets and magnets. He then began to ask why we were so “dolled up” and where we were going. His questioning proceeded to become more and more personal—almost to the point of harassment. That is when our HERO made eye contact with Amanda.

A security guard had just made his way onto the bus when Amanda used her telepathy. The expression on Amanda’s face didn’t lie. We. Needed. Help. The last thing we wanted was for the guy to follow us off the bus (because he was indicating that’s exactly what he was going to do).  

Even after the man was told to leave us alone he continued to bother us—he even attempted to coax the security guard into flirting with us.  This prompted a fast conversation with Kellie on the phone, and an even faster departure from the train. The guard stepped away from our seat to let us pass, and the door closed behind us with our nightmare calling after us. Luckily, Kellie was around the corner in her car. No chance for stalking tonight. No. Way.