The Welder

Since the plane to Sacramento from San Diego was late yesterday, I and several others missed the bus into Sacramento, and had to wait 45 minutes for the next bus.

As we waited, a military-looking man approached, wheeling a heavy burden of backpack, duffel bag and enormous suitcase. He asked if we knew whether there was a bus to Pilot's 49'er truck stop at El Camino and I-80. I said: "No. This express bus kinda-sorta passes nearby that location, but it's an express bus, and isn't supposed to stop. Maybe we can get the bus driver to bend the rules and stop anyway, but you'd still have to walk a mile, or so. It's too bad. Here at the airport we really aren't that far away from that location, but there's no bus there that I know of. Maybe a taxi would be a better option, or even better, hitch a ride."

The fellow explained that his bank account was frozen until midnight and that he had little cash. He was supposed to rendezvous with a friend at the truck stop, in order to travel together to Seattle. He was taking possession of a property north of town there. "All my possessions are in these three bundles," he explained.

He also explained that he was retiring from the Navy, moving from San Diego, and was a welder/pipefitter by trade. So, for the moment, a taxi was out-of-the-question. "I asked folks at the baggage claim if they could give me a lift," he said as he rolled his eyes at the memory, "but they were family people and they wouldn't take the chance."

This was an awkward problem: he was basically cornered regarding transportation. As we waited the 45 minutes, I thought maybe I should just give him twenty dollars for the taxi. But maybe there were alternatives....

As we boarded the bus to Sacramento, the bus driver explained there was possibly a bus route that might work for a transfer once we got to Sacramento, but instead I decided to cut through the transit red tape and offered to drive the fellow there myself, once we got into Sacramento so I could pick up my car.

The welder was excited to be in Sacramento. He loved history, and was chagrined about not having time to tour Old Sacramento, particularly the underground parts, which he already knew about. "There's a lot of history in Sacramento," he said. "The Pony Express started here." He also explained that while in the Navy he had been able to make extended visits to Rome and the Holy Land, and toured lots of Biblical archaeological sites.

We got off the bus on J Street and proceeded on foot several blocks to pick up my car. We passed Jerry Brown's Loft at 16th Street, and I explained about the Governor's Mansion two blocks north where Jerry Brown grew up, and how Nancy Reagan didn't want to have anything to do with that building. The welder asked about whether Schwarzenegger had a mansion, and I explained about the Governator's commuter arrangement from Santa Monica, and the suite at Sacramento's Hyatt Regency. The welder was fascinated by all this. True, as history goes, it's not quite on the same scale as King Herod and the Temple (these are days of rust and ruin in California). But history is history, and there's always something to be learned from it.

Once I got my car, I quickly whisked the grateful welder to the truck stop, in time to make his rendezvous, and in order to start his new life in Washington state.