This should go down in the annals of dumb designs.
So, last weekend we decided to take a trip to San Francisco. Not having done it in a while, we thought we would take the Caltrain rather than drive. (The whole public transit thing...). Well, Caltrain has a pretty lean schedule for the weekend - which means there is a train every hour. This requires a little more planning than just jumping into your car and driving away.
True to our family "tradition", we left home around 11:45 am to catch the 12:10 train. We had a 20-min drive, so the chances of catching the train were iffy. As I drove to the station, I was being chided by the other members of the family for driving too slowly (and for paying attention to the speed limit), while some others were blaming each other for the delay.
We got to the station with about 7 mins to spare. As I parked, my wife and son dashed off to the ticket vending machine, while my daughter and I started looking for parking ticket dispenser. After a little bit of investigation, we saw a sign that said we had to get the parking ticket from the ticket vending machine. Since time was of the essence, I ran to the ticket vending machine (which was a few hundred meters away and mind you I was carrying 2 bottles of water and a backpack). I found my wife and son simultaneously arguing and fighting the vending machine (and doing both well, I might add). They wanted to know what I was doing there and I panted that I was there to get the parking ticket.
I popped in $2 into the vending machine to get an all day parking ticket and was faced with a dozen choices - all the way from buying a train ticket to parking ticket. I chose the parking ticket option, and then I was asked the parking space number. This was a curve ball! I had no idea that I needed to note down the number of the parking space to get a ticket. So, I turned to my wife to see if she knew the number. She told me, "Yes, it is 47", in a "I am surprised, you don't even know this" voice. Treating that as gospel, I punched 47 in, picked up the ticket and ran back to the car.
As I puffed towards the car, I passed No. 47 and it wasn't our car. Our car was in 49! Time Check: 12:09! The train should be pulling in any minute (actually, in precisely a minute). Since there was no way for me to park in 47, I decided the next best thing was to drive closer to the vending machine and get another ticket. But, as luck would have it, all the slots close by were taken, so I ended up finding one about the same distance as before. I parked and we jumped out of the car to buy another ticket.
At this time the train had just pulled into the station and my wife and son were waving to get on the train while my daughter and I were screaming from the other end to not get in, because we hadn't procured the parking ticket yet. All this was complicated by an unpleasant and impatient train conductor who was egging them to get on, because the train was running late.
As you can imagine, I was more than a tad ticked off by now. We were going to miss this train and wait another hour all because some smart aleck decided that they need to tie a parking ticket to a particular parking spot. The logic escapes me. I would have expected ticket dispensers at multiple convenient locations in the parking lot and/or BIG signs saying note the parking spot number because you will need it to get a ticket. And by the way, once you get the ticket, be prepared to sprint to your car to place the ticket on the dashboard and back to the platform to catch the train.
The Caltrain Station designer(s) obviously expected the passengers to get there with plenty of time to spare!
PS. If inquiring minds want to know, we caught the 1:10 and the rest of the day was uneventful:)
So, last weekend we decided to take a trip to San Francisco. Not having done it in a while, we thought we would take the Caltrain rather than drive. (The whole public transit thing...). Well, Caltrain has a pretty lean schedule for the weekend - which means there is a train every hour. This requires a little more planning than just jumping into your car and driving away.
True to our family "tradition", we left home around 11:45 am to catch the 12:10 train. We had a 20-min drive, so the chances of catching the train were iffy. As I drove to the station, I was being chided by the other members of the family for driving too slowly (and for paying attention to the speed limit), while some others were blaming each other for the delay.
We got to the station with about 7 mins to spare. As I parked, my wife and son dashed off to the ticket vending machine, while my daughter and I started looking for parking ticket dispenser. After a little bit of investigation, we saw a sign that said we had to get the parking ticket from the ticket vending machine. Since time was of the essence, I ran to the ticket vending machine (which was a few hundred meters away and mind you I was carrying 2 bottles of water and a backpack). I found my wife and son simultaneously arguing and fighting the vending machine (and doing both well, I might add). They wanted to know what I was doing there and I panted that I was there to get the parking ticket.
I popped in $2 into the vending machine to get an all day parking ticket and was faced with a dozen choices - all the way from buying a train ticket to parking ticket. I chose the parking ticket option, and then I was asked the parking space number. This was a curve ball! I had no idea that I needed to note down the number of the parking space to get a ticket. So, I turned to my wife to see if she knew the number. She told me, "Yes, it is 47", in a "I am surprised, you don't even know this" voice. Treating that as gospel, I punched 47 in, picked up the ticket and ran back to the car.
As I puffed towards the car, I passed No. 47 and it wasn't our car. Our car was in 49! Time Check: 12:09! The train should be pulling in any minute (actually, in precisely a minute). Since there was no way for me to park in 47, I decided the next best thing was to drive closer to the vending machine and get another ticket. But, as luck would have it, all the slots close by were taken, so I ended up finding one about the same distance as before. I parked and we jumped out of the car to buy another ticket.
At this time the train had just pulled into the station and my wife and son were waving to get on the train while my daughter and I were screaming from the other end to not get in, because we hadn't procured the parking ticket yet. All this was complicated by an unpleasant and impatient train conductor who was egging them to get on, because the train was running late.
As you can imagine, I was more than a tad ticked off by now. We were going to miss this train and wait another hour all because some smart aleck decided that they need to tie a parking ticket to a particular parking spot. The logic escapes me. I would have expected ticket dispensers at multiple convenient locations in the parking lot and/or BIG signs saying note the parking spot number because you will need it to get a ticket. And by the way, once you get the ticket, be prepared to sprint to your car to place the ticket on the dashboard and back to the platform to catch the train.
The Caltrain Station designer(s) obviously expected the passengers to get there with plenty of time to spare!
PS. If inquiring minds want to know, we caught the 1:10 and the rest of the day was uneventful:)
"Since time was of the essence, I ran to the ticket vending machine (which was a few hundred meters away and mind you I was carrying 2 bottles of water and a backpack)." Maybe you can add "and I haven't run in about 20 years."
ReplyDeleteJokes aside, you have to admit that the experience only added to the family bonding. It was a weekend to remember. And what would we have had to watch on the train ride home if it weren't for this debacle in the first place?