On Public Transportation

You would think after years of peeling, pain, dermatology appointments and aloe baths a girl would learn to put on a little sunscreen. You would think. Yet, here I sit with my skin on fire and my limbs screaming at me everytime I move. It's one of those sunburns where people just look at you and wince.

Sometimes I'm lucky and there's a good story to accompany the burn, so at least my pride is salvaged and I'm not stuck with "well, no, no fun day at the pool, no long boat ride, no romantic rendevous with an Italian man on the beaches of a remote island...the yard needed attention, so I just had to get out and pull some weeds."

And today, I painfully carry my sunburn with pride. Because there's an adventure underneath.

Unfortunately it wasn't romantic rendevous with an Italian man. I'm still waiting for that.

When you live in the city there are certain things a person should experience at least once: a sporting event, a really nice museum, a tour of a highrise, a two-hour traffic jam...and Public Transportation. In Atlanta we call this MARTA.

Now, don't get me wrong, I've taken MARTA twice before. Once to a concert and once to explore some of Atlanta. But on Sunday I conquered MARTA alone.

To some this may not seem like a big ordeal, but for a girl from a town that was named after a creek full of geese taking a subway alone into quite a large city with a purpose in mind it quite an accoplishment.

On this particular day I decided that there was nothing more I wanted to do than to lay on a blanket in the park and read a book in the sunshine. Which is a nice idea, but when you live in the city this might be a little hard because there's not necessarily fields of plush green grass at every corner beckoning to have you bask in its natural green grassines. The only park I know of is Centennial Olympic Park, which I love, but not the easiest to get to. This left me with two choices: 1. Ditch my idea and stay inside and watch non-cable television (which on a Sunday limits me to 1970s movies and Gospel extravaganzas galore) or 2. Be brave, embrace life in the city and take Public Transportation.

I voted for number 2.

With handy dandy fold-up pickup blanket strapped on and water bottle at my side I bought my token, only to have it eaten by the gate machine leaving me heaving myself at the rotating bar thinking that it would open anytime and to have the nice young man next to me nicely instruct me to "yo, go through dat handicap gate." So I did, slightly paranoid that I was being Watched and the MARTA police were going to arrest me when I got to the other side. I might add, the same thing happened on the way back, but instead of heaving at the bar I went for the gate. I like to call this street smarts, which I was obviously developing quite quickly.

And there I stood, watching for my train, which I was informed by the neon side in front of me would be arriving in 6 minutes, approximately.

And it came, and I got on. There were a few stares. I mean, if I was someone looking at someone like me on the MARTA I would wonder why someone like me was there, too. Let's just say I was a minority. Which I found exciting.

Before I knew it I saw the little blue signs for the CNN Center/Phipps Plaza/GWCC, which was my stop. (Again, street smarts.)

I knew exactly how to get to Centennial Park because I had been in the area before, so I hopped off and trotted on over as if I had lived here forever.

I found a spot of green grass perfect for my blanket, spread out, pulled out my book...and BAKED for two hours.

I must say though, I felt like quite the city girl. Sure, I was in a park, on grass, but I was surrounded by skyscrapers and buildings and lots and lots of people. And I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

And that, my friends, is the story of my sunburn.