One student’s rough ride home

Christopher Geanakos | News Editor
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It’s 3:32 p.m. and my last class has just ended. “Time to get the hell off campus and back to safe haven,” I think as I quickly put my school concerns on the mental backburner and begin my routine trek home.

I walk the bend around Hughes Stadium. The parking structure comes into view and soon so does the light rail station where my train is already boarding.

I make a rush to reach my train before it pulls out of the station. I even come within arms length of the doors only to have them shut in my face.

I click the button which opens the doors a few times in desperation thinking maybe they’ll open again for me. No such luck. The train has already started moving, so I step away, back toward the cement slab benches.

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“I’ve seen people get beat up, I’ve even seen a security guard get beat up, but that was a while ago,” Orr said.

I look to the light rail clock and take a peek at the tracks, trying to catch a glimpse of what hopefully is my train. A light emerges from the far end of the rail tracks going toward downtown. Throngs of students immediately leap to their feet and steal glances of the fast approaching train. Within 30 seconds the train has arrived and I feel grateful that I will finally be making my way home.

On the train, the sound of locomotive ambiance and soft chatter coalesce into a drone, lulling me into a drowsy trance. An automated train voice barks on the loudspeaker, we have just passed Fruitridge Boulevard.

I am only one stop away from my destination when from behind me comes a booming voice, “Tickets and ID cards please.” As I search my backpack and pockets frantically, fear starts to well up in the pit of my stomach. The voice gets closer, I have nothing. Foolishly, I have forgotten to bring my pass to school with me today. Finally, the voice addresses me.

Despite my pleading and my attempts to show that I was indeed a student at City College, Officer Rivera will have none of it. By the end of our terse conversation I have a date with the Sacramento County Superior Court.

Finally, I reach my stop. I sling my backpack up over my shoulders and stuff the ticket into my pocket. As I leave the train platform and begin my walk home, I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my back. I couldn’t be happier to be off the light rail.