MAXimum games

In Boston, the street signs can only be correctly interpreted by natives, as in “if you don’t already know where it is, we sure as heck ain’t gonna tell ya.” It’s about the only place I know that puts the directions AFTER the turn-off, so that the sign really says “ya shoulda turned back there…”

In Portland, they do much the same thing, only they call it the MAX. That’s Portland’s commuter train system and we’re having a kind of love-hate relationship.

Now, I love trains. To be able to ride MAX I’ll put up with its really horrible signage, lackadaisical ticketing (MAX is losing money and I suspect it’s because they use the honor system instead of turnstyles and conductors) and really confusing scheduling. Why? The people.

People on planes huddle in tightly wadded cocoons, impatient and angry, fiercely guarding their armrests and glaring at their seatmates. It’s kinda like coldsleep,* only hostile. People on trains look out the windows, watch fellow passengers, stand and sit and move and smile and fight and make out and cry. They interact.

People on trains are a dozen free shows all around me. I become so fascinated I frequently miss my stop so I can see how one particular play ends.**

And Gigi the iPhone really makes the MAX experience. Not only can I use her Kindle app to read the latest book (right now, Nation by Terry Pratchett) and her iPod feature to add a musical score (at the moment M.I.A’s best*** interswirled with Annie Lennox and Michael White’s Marion music), but she also sports an app, Portland Transit, that clears away at least part of my MAX confusion.

It’s $1.99, by Jacob Bandes-Storch, and if it isn’t the easiest thing to use it does tell me when the next train is coming and MORE IMPORTANT, where it’s ending. On the MAX, the line may run from A to Z but the trains can go from A to L or C to W, and it’s a trifle disconcerting to be dumped out at the wrong station because the train quit. Jacob’s app also offers a GPS feature that tells me where the nearest bus/train/trolley lives and when it’ll be leaving.

At the moment, though, Gigi’s real role is undercover: She has a camera. A darn good camera, actually, and it’s bloody hard to tell when I’m using it. I’ve been recording all these mini-plays into probably one of the most nakedly honest series of candids I’ve ever done. In the week I’ve been riding the train I’ve found perhaps 15 portraits worth sculpting, all with expressions that would be frozen away by a great big honking Nikon.

And yeah, I understand the privacy thing, I’m a card-carrying member of the EFF…but I’m also a storyteller surrounded by pure art. I’m torn between jealously guarding this wonderful peopleart and sharing it. I’ve tossed about 300 images into a Flash slideshow; watching it is mesmerizing.

I’m thinking of grabbing a webdomain, dumping the slideshow into it, and just letting it grow with the MAX experience. I’m still not easy in my mind about it, but the need is growing. Very small sample:

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*Does ANYone out there not know what coldsleep means? Gee, youse guys oughta read more science fiction.

**Yes, I’m a busybody. Snoop. Whatever you want to call it. Journalist.

***If you haven’t heard Galang or MIA, you should. I’m probably making a spectacle of myself, rocking out to it while bouncing the three blocks to the client. But listen to the words–these songs are a semantic miracle, qawwali-style. Think gangsta Tagore.

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