THE MIGHTY JOURNALS
produced during Community Based Learning
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1:
The Yellow Line MAX is scheduled to open for regular service on May 1, 2004. The Yellow Line is a new extension of the MAX light rail system which travels along NE Interstate Avenue from the Rose Garden Arena to the Portland Expo Center. At every station on the opening day, TriMet has arranged for numerous festive venues, and, as a result, they are recruiting volunteers.
I decided to apply this as my CBL experience. My first interaction with the Interstate MAX organization will be on April 27, for a three-hour "training", which, interestingly enough, also includes a preview ride on the new rail line. To be continued...
2:
Now that the "training" has occurred, I might as well write about it. It began at 5:30 PM, in a strange outbuilding of the Kaiser hospital in NE Portland, known as the "Kaiser Town Hall". As I drove up and parked, I noticed the shiny new station platform stuck in the middle of the road, and a crowd of trainee volunteers gathering on it.
Once parked I joined up with a gang of blue-shirted TriMet customer service lackeys who had just piled out of a big company van, and we made our way to the platform and waited for the rest of the volunteers to arrive.
It took quite a long time, and several poor souls, not realizing that this station had just been finished that morning, leaned on the railings and got themselves plastered with wet paint...not me, however.
Test trains had been running along the line for a week now, and every so often as we waited one would pass by, stopping for a minute and letting us look at its little paper signs warning us not to get on.
The first element of the training, as I had suspected, was indeed a ride on the new system. Since a number of the volunteers had not yet shown up, the train slated for us was sent on so not to disrupt the flow of test trains. A half-hour later, though, we were hustled onto a train, which had in fact been reserved by "Oregon Art Beat", a PBS television show. Immediately we ran straight into a loud band of klezmer musicians, honking on accordions and bass fiddles.
Oddly enough, both the television crew and the band were delighted to accommodate us, and as the train rushed down the track, the band's saxophonist hopped up and down the aisle making loud noises as the cameraman and his microphone elf bounced after him.
Near the end of the line the band and the TV crew got off, leaving us in peace. At the last station, so did we. The wind was blowing strongly that day, and the air was filled with a jingling noise from the Japanese Internment memorial arches, which were strung with metal dog-tags worn by the prisoners. One of the TriMet crew got out a megaphone and gave us a rundown of the place. Apparently, during WWII, the area around the station had been the staging point from which Japanese would be sent to internment camps.
The TriMet crew also explained to us station protocol; how to direct passengers and so forth. After which we were piled back onto the train and headed back down the track.
Since the band was gone, I took a closer look at the passing scenery, and the TriMet crewman with the megaphone narrated as we went. We passed a large restored wetland and crossed a 5,000-foot ramp over the industrial area. I also acquired my first look at the ridiculous Paul Bunyan statue near the Kenton station.
3:
When the train returned to the Overlook Park station, we exited and went into the Kaiser Town Hall building, where TriMet had reserved a conference room. We received documentation assigning us to various tasks and locations, and informing us of our shifts and the protocols for our jobs.
There was a large number of volunteers, from an unusual mix of backgrounds. There were two high schools participating, as well as some sort of fraternal organization (lots of old people). In addition to this there were roughly a dozen TriMet personnel assigned to be "station captains", the leaders and coordinators of all activity at each station.
After all this, they handed out blue windbreakers for us to wear on the opening day, to identify us as volunteers. Some of the bosses of the operation had brought in hors d'oeuvres and drinks; not much, but it was by far the most placating part of the evening. It ended in the bottom half of the seventh hour.
4:
There was no further activity until the first of May, when the Yellow Line officially opened. My shift was scheduled to begin at 12:45, at the Expo Center station, of all places: the very end of the line. Thus, I had the farthest to travel.
I personally like the MAX trains but I have no love for the bus. The fastest way for me to get on the MAX line is to take the Route 14 downtown to Pioneer Courthouse Square, through which all MAX routes pass. The bus ride took nearly an hour (I swear I could've walked it faster), and when I did catch the Yellow Line train the thing was held up at each successive station by a mob of mad passengers, all who seemed confused or angry or strangely ecstatic. Dozens of short children guzzled (and spilled) soda cans that some company shill had given out for free. The train became stuffed with noisy people.
When I arrived at the Expo Center I was somewhat late, but the volunteer coordinator for that station, Michelle (who was also the chief coordinator for the entire event), was in a good mood and didn't seem to mind. Initially I was put on a station platform, but then I was sent to an exit ramp to get a count of debarking passengers.
5:
TriMet's security contractors had set up an on-and-off system, in which passengers could only exit from one ramp and enter from another. This was done in anticipation of tremendous crowds the first day, which there certainly were. A retired police officer, Mr. Stanley, now a GSA contracted security guard, prevented passengers from entering via the exit ramp. My own job was nearby this security guard, behind a crowd control fence, with a piece of paper and my watch, to count out, as well as I could, the number of people coming off a train.
There is no turnaround at the Expo Center station; a train entering the station must depart on the same track it came in on, and then is switched onto the proper southbound track. Somehow this confused people, for a great number of them wandered off the train asking which way it was to the train back.
For the most part Mr. Stanley had all the answers. When one is a customer one tends to get annoyed with security guards, for their blunt statements and orders. However, on the other side of the fence it seems different. I never quite realized how important the dispassionate attitude is for such a job. And what was also interesting was the man's ability to shift between them. To me, to each other, and to the other volunteers, the guards and the Rail Supervisors were perfectly amiable, although to the passengers they were as short as possible. I find that detachment intriguing, because I have rarely employed it myself.
The customers themselves seemed not to understand why they couldn't go back to the train the same way they came out. Mr. Stanley's most oft-repeated line was "Re-boarding is at the north end."
6:
They gave us bottled water and T-shirts, and for two and a half hours I didn't leave my post. I suppose I'm a low-maintenance volunteer. My task was very simple and most of it was spent sitting around on the fence waiting for the next train to come in.
There were many guards, police, and TriMet servicers arranged around the place (the Expo Center station opens onto an enormous parking lot, where today's booths, stages, and portable toilets were set up). It seems that the station was nearly overstaffed. There were more GSA security guards like Mr. Stanley, wearing orange vests and white shirts, and other contracted guards from the Wackenhut agency, in khaki suits and cowboy hats. In addition there were rail supervisors, emblazoned with their job title on yellow reflector vests. And, too, there were police, not only from Portland but from the County Sheriff, the state, and even Milwaukie. Finally there were the volunteers: over a dozen more. All in all there were perhaps thirty or forty staffers engaged at the Expo Center, and hundreds more strung down the line all the way Pioneer Courthouse Square.
7:
The stage was at the other end of the parking lot, and for the most part its emissions went unheard by me and the others working the south end of the station. That was until the drummers came on.
Mr. Stanley liked the drummers very much; they were from Portland Taiko, and they were very loud. It was a welcome departure from the constant noises of the milling crowd and the parked MAX vehicles. Bang bang bang...
It's a far cry from the training day that I was here, when everything was quiet save for the metal tags/windchimes ringing in the breeze.
8:
Sometime around 3:45 I was relieved. Since I had arrived late I would've stayed later to make it up, but there was a full shift of volunteers coming on and all the jobs were filled. In any case, I gave my timesheet over to someone who had a watch and told them what to do. Then, saying goodbye to the supervisors, I left on the next train.
It was a long ride, with more noisy and confused people. I had gotten to sit down on the way up, but now it was standing room only. Almost an hour later I was downtown, and it was uncomfortably hot amid the buildings, and the place was louder than usual with the crowds from the Interstate moving along the transit mall. There seemed to be more loafers and homeless out than usual.
My bus came late, naturally, and it took me until nearly six to get home.
9:
I received a message in the mail: a form message from the TriMet general manager, Fred Hansen; the standard thank-you-for-volunteering statement. Also affixed to the message was a handwritten segment from Michelle the station boss, who said that from the count it had been determined that 10% of all the activity had been concentrated on the Expo Center. It was the busiest spot in town.
10:
There is no 10.
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