As a dutiful college student at New Mexico State University,
I shared a number of German courses with fellow student Doug. Doug was an amiable guy. Other than a New Year’s Eve road trip to
Tucson to see Billy Bacon and the Forbidden Pigs play Club Congress, we never
spent much time together outside of class, but our social orbits aligned at
times. Doug played guitar. Proving once and for all the value of language degree, he went on to form a well-regarded Kiddie Rock band called
the Jellydots. I had no idea Kiddie Rock
was a thing. Black Metal? Sure. Tex-Mex-Blues-a-Billy? Of course!
Billy Bacon established—or at least perfected—that genre years ago! But Kiddie Rock? Well, you learn something new every day. Or at least every now and again.
The relentless tentacles of Facebook connected Doug and I
some years ago, which is when I first learned about the Jellydots. I downloaded (bought and paid for) some songs. One such song, called “San Diego,” included
the following question in its chorus: “Why don’t we go to San Diego?” [For those interested, the song can be
streamed at the Jellydots website here.]
Why indeed. I like to think that
Doug’s song resonated at some level, and is what propelled me and C to visit what
is, essentially, a dusty border town with high-rises and the pretension to rise
above its station. But really it was
just the Esri User Conference that brought us to town.
C was sent to the Esri User Conference, presumably to confer
with Esri users, and spent the better part of ten days in and around the massive
San Diego Convention Center. She was, unfortunately, a week too early to revel in San Diego’s Comic-Con, and cannot compare its
costumed excess to what we observed in Phoenix.
I followed and joined her for a three day weekend, in large part to
experience the single feature that, in my estimation, makes San Diego the envy
of urban centers the world over: an airport you can walk to.
Is there another major airport anywhere you can easily walk
to? This is not a rhetorical
question. Does anyone know? Is there such an airport? I don’t mean airports that you can get to,
however easily, by public transportation.
Washington National is certainly convenient, but I’m not sure if you can
safely approach it on foot. Same with
Logan. At San Diego, I shouldered my
bag, walked outside the terminal, crossed one street at a conveniently placed
cross-walk, and strolled into town along a pedestrian and bike path along the
waterfront. Thirty minutes later I met C and sister M at the Hyatt.
I have walked to precisely one other airport, this one in
Albuquerque. So I guess I just answered
my own question. I had not intended on
doing so. I had planned to take the
bus. Albuquerque is a big city,
right? Am I wrong in thinking it should
have public transportation to and from New Mexico’s only major airport? Well, I researched bus routes prior to that particular trip, and there was in fact a route to the airport. I could catch the bus on Central Avenue,
which was fine as I was in town to visit the law school and would be close to a
bus stop. Unsure of the frequency, I
gave myself plenty of time, which proved fortuitous as the bus only ran during
the commuter hours in the morning and evening.
What the hell? Is the bus line
there to serve airport employees alone? It
seemed that the city transit authority never considered that visitors to the
city might also be interested in the bus route and that their schedules may
prove more variable than the typical 8 to 5 work day. I considered calling a cab, but decided to
walk instead. Distance wise, it was
fine, but there wasn’t much of a sidewalk, and I had to share the road on my
final approach. As I neared the terminal,
a car pulled to a stop next to me. I
assumed the driver was about to offer me a ride, which I appreciated. Not anticipating much of a walk, I had not
packed or worn shoes that were up to the task, and my feet were aching.
“Hey, can I buy gas around here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Gas. Where is the
closest gas?”
“What part of my walking to the airport makes you think I
have any idea where you can buy gas?”
The window went back up, the car sped away, and I limped
onward.
So while the Albuquerque airport is within striking distance
of passengers on foot, it is not (or at least was not—perhaps it has been
upgraded) particularly welcoming to foot traffic. San Diego, on the other hand, proudly
includes walking directions to and from the airport on its website. I acknowledge this feature is probably of
most use to the tourist. Or perhaps the
small handful of people that can afford to live downtown, most of whom, based
on San Diego real estate prices, likely hire helicopters to lift them from private helipad
to privately charted jet rather than mix with the rabble found on city
sidewalks or commercial airlines. But
still, a walkable airport should be the goal of any and every municipality.
Having accomplished my one and only goal for this trip
within an hour of hitting the ground, what else was there to do? We considered hopping the border and
exploring Mexico, but only two of the three of us had passports. We considered an evening at the Old Globe
Theater—Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead was playing—but failed at getting
tickets. We thought about a Padres game,
but could not be bothered. So that left
eating burritos and eating sea urchin, both of which we did with abandon. Well, both of which I did with abandon. C and sister M took a pass on the sea urchin,
which just puzzles me. What is not to
like about the cutest of all the tide pool detritus?
Now back in Anchorage, I’m left searching for rhymes for “walkable”
and “urchin.” It seems Doug’s song needs
an additional verse that really captures all the city has to offer.
