You may be wondering how I
ended up here. For that answer we have to travel back twenty-four hours. You
see, work’s been pretty rough lately; it can best be described through this gif I made:
But there is one benefit: I get to travel a lot, and that part is fun....I guess? Hey, anything to get me out of the office, am I right? I'm just kidding - I don't have an office, I have cubicle with a bean bag chair. Since I have zero life outside of work, I try to mix things up as often as possible. That was the reason for my previous trip across the US in a train by myself, for five days. People who are enjoying their life don’t tend to do things like that.
But there is one benefit: I get to travel a lot, and that part is fun....I guess? Hey, anything to get me out of the office, am I right? I'm just kidding - I don't have an office, I have cubicle with a bean bag chair. Since I have zero life outside of work, I try to mix things up as often as possible. That was the reason for my previous trip across the US in a train by myself, for five days. People who are enjoying their life don’t tend to do things like that.
On Tuesday, I had a one-day
meeting in San Francisco. So instead of flying in-and-out the same day (like my
lame co-worker, Alan), I decided to Ride Cabin. It’s the millennial version of
Greyhound. It’s a bus you take over night from 11pm-7am and you sleep in a
little pod. There's WiFi, free coffee and snacks. They tell you to show up in
your PJs so you can just climb into your pod, turn on Netflix and crash the
fuck out. I figured I'd try and connect with the youth of today and give
the future of bus technology a try. iPods, EarPods, sleep pods, the new
generation loves anything in pod form.
The pickup spot was north of
the Santa Monica pier on Ocean Ave. Similar to Snapchat, instructions were
slim: "Just figure it out, old man, swipe the ghost, hold his face, no
swipe it top wise. Top wise!" Tickets cost $115 online, and I use the term
"ticket" loosely because all you really get is an email that just
says: "yo pick up is on Ocean ave, round 11, figure it out, peace I’m
gonna go eat a poke bowl”
Is that departing at 11 or boarding? What pod zone am I in? Is there a parking lot, or does it just pick you up on the street? How do I do that thing where rainbows come out your mouth? Is Poke just a bowl of raw fish?
Is that departing at 11 or boarding? What pod zone am I in? Is there a parking lot, or does it just pick you up on the street? How do I do that thing where rainbows come out your mouth? Is Poke just a bowl of raw fish?
I did what people who don't know what's going on tend to do: I showed up unreasonably early. Like when you're stoked for a big party, so you show up right at the time on the invitation (well, you get there five minutes early and hide in your car for ten). Then you knock on the door and you're the first person there, so you end up helping the host setup like a huge loser. I was that guy except the party was an empty street and the host was a hobo mixing a Listerine and Coke. I got to Santa Monica at 9:30, a full hour and a half before whatever was happening at 11. There was no bus in sight, no sign, nothing. Confused and Snungry™, I walked down to the pier to take in the culture.
Santa Monica basically shuts down and transitions into a hobo circus around
that time, so there wasn’t much to do. All that was open was this ridiculous
ice cream place called Creams & Dreams. They make ice cream on demand
instantly with liquid nitrogen, because… I don’t know, fog is fun?
Making a single order is so time-consuming and theatrical that the only way they can turn a profit is by charging $8.50 for a small cup. I can totally picture someone pitching this place at one of those franchise expos. “Flash Cream™ is the fastest growing experience based, on demand ice cream business in the lower mid-east, compared to similar markets like artisan vegan ice cream cookie sandwich shops and cheese-filled pretzel pizzerias.”
The nerds in front of me were
absolutely losing it. They had their buddy on FaceTime, and were laughing
thunderously like it was the craziest thing they'd ever seen. It might be the
dumbest ice cream shop I've ever been to. I mean, I still got one, obviously.
I didn’t really see a choice - there was fog.
Making a single order is so time-consuming and theatrical that the only way they can turn a profit is by charging $8.50 for a small cup. I can totally picture someone pitching this place at one of those franchise expos. “Flash Cream™ is the fastest growing experience based, on demand ice cream business in the lower mid-east, compared to similar markets like artisan vegan ice cream cookie sandwich shops and cheese-filled pretzel pizzerias.”
The nerds in front of me were
absolutely losing it. They had their buddy on FaceTime, and were laughing
thunderously like it was the craziest thing they'd ever seen. It might be the
dumbest ice cream shop I've ever been to. I mean, I still got one, obviously.
I didn’t really see a choice - there was fog.  |
| (4/10) - Its not like the fog makes it taste better, quiet the opposite in fact. There's no need to improve store bought ice-cream. One point for fog. |
Walking back munching on my flash cream, I saw
it off in the distance just idling curbside beside a stumbling, yet orally
hygienic, bum. I quickly had a rush of panic as I saw a few backpackers
hovering around the mystical bus. Did I miss out on getting the best
pod? Was it first come, first pod? I fucked up, I why did I buy this stupid snack.
I started running in panic,
thick ice cream fog trailed behind me. I stopped at the door,
slightly out of breath, and was greeted by a hoodie-clad Grant. He didn’t tell
me his name - he didn’t need to - it was definitely Grant.
Grant glanced at my ID and
waved me in like some kind of bus bouncer. Guys, remember when you had to have
tickets for stuff? Who am I kidding, I can do one better than that. Guys, remember
when you had to fill out your bowling score card with just a pen and paper? How
about when you could smoke on airplanes, or when you looked for jobs by
circling classified ads in the newspaper? I can keep going… How about when you
wanted to book a hotel in another city, so you called 411 and asked, "Can
you put me through to a hotel in New York. Sure, I’ll get that one, nope don’t
need to see it, or know what neighborhood it's in, or how many stars it has.
I'll take it. Personal check okay? Thanks." What an era to live in; the
future is ticketless.
Back to the bus. It's a
double decker, slick and black like a Tron employee shuttle. On the first floor, there is a
bathroom and (what I assume the cool kids call) a “chill zone”. Where you
chill. There was also a pod in the chill zone. Was that a VIP pod? Maybe it’s
Grant’s pod?
I hurried upstairs to grab a
primo pod and entered a long narrow podway™. There were about four other people
scrambling to pick a pod. I joined them in panic, vibrating around trying to
evaluate all the pros and cons of each pod. The experience was made more
awkward, and sticky, by my fast melting flash cream. There was nowhere to
throw it out, and the hallways were so narrow that passing anyone meant raising
the stupid flash cream over my head, desperately trying to avoid dripping it
over everyone. You know that old adage: The
faster you freeze your cream, the quicker it melts.
My first impression was, “holy
shit these pods are small.” They really weren’t kidding around about the
podiness. Anyone the least bit claustrophobic would instantly have a panic
attack, shit their pod and spend the rest of the trip in the chill zone.
Even in the chaos I was still
super-excited to sleep pod style on
the road. And I know what you’re thinking: “That’s just a tour bus.” Well, not
all of us were born with the voice of an angel. We musically-challenge people
deserve a brief peek into the life of a touring rock band, too. And
I'm musically challenged in every way, I’m not just talking tone deaf
- rhythm deaf, lyric deaf, all the deafs. I’ve sung karaoke before and people have
simply stopped liking me after. Like, they were friends, they heard me sing, and said,
“Yeah, I don’t want to be friends with that guy anymore."
It's essentially a double decker tour bus. Only you can’t drink, do drugs, or talk over a whisper. As I darted around scanning the area, I deduced there were two podtions™. One had more head room but a smaller window...
It's essentially a double decker tour bus. Only you can’t drink, do drugs, or talk over a whisper. As I darted around scanning the area, I deduced there were two podtions™. One had more head room but a smaller window...
And the other had less head
room and a big window. There were also two upper and lower levels.
People and pods began to pair off like they were at a grade school dance, and just like in those situations, I began to sweat. First, I threw my bag into the high headroom pod (HHP). Then a German guy quickly dived under it and into the bottom bunk. Seriously, who takes bottom bunk? He slid in there like a skilled mechanic slides under a car. This guy looks like he’s done this before; what does he know that I don't?
I was just about to commit to HHP when I saw a girl eyeing the low head room big window pod (LHBWP). I was instantly filled with murderous jealously and spun around to block her, somehow making it appear as though I had already chosen that pod. Of course, my bag was in the other pod, so I just stood there in a casual manner “oh sorry I already grabbed this pod (closing the curtain) my bags in there, but there are a few bigger pods down the podway, one has tons of headroom.” I left my bag in the other pod until the heat died down. Then I quickly grabbed it when no one was looking.
People and pods began to pair off like they were at a grade school dance, and just like in those situations, I began to sweat. First, I threw my bag into the high headroom pod (HHP). Then a German guy quickly dived under it and into the bottom bunk. Seriously, who takes bottom bunk? He slid in there like a skilled mechanic slides under a car. This guy looks like he’s done this before; what does he know that I don't?
I was just about to commit to HHP when I saw a girl eyeing the low head room big window pod (LHBWP). I was instantly filled with murderous jealously and spun around to block her, somehow making it appear as though I had already chosen that pod. Of course, my bag was in the other pod, so I just stood there in a casual manner “oh sorry I already grabbed this pod (closing the curtain) my bags in there, but there are a few bigger pods down the podway, one has tons of headroom.” I left my bag in the other pod until the heat died down. Then I quickly grabbed it when no one was looking.
The pod is small - I can’t
express that enough. I’ve seen roomier coffins. I climbed in and wiggled around
trying to get comfy. It wasn’t that bad, actually. The bedding was hotel quality,
so that was cool. But I did think that the pod would be more futuristic to
be honest, like the ones in Fifth Element. 
Maybe a little screen, or
some climate control? Nope, just a mirror. But they did hand out bottles of
water, a breakfast bar and a reverse energy drink.
As the bus started to move,
one of the attendants came upstairs and read a little intro to Cabin. Finally
some information. There was no PA, though, so it left her reading it out loud in the
dark, like a bedtime story. As she did, my thoughts drifted to stories of Mötley
Crüe banging all kinds of groupies on their tour bus. Looking around, there is
no way you could bang anything in one of these. Well maybe a well-planned,
planking mish? I don't know. I guess the buses were bigger and less pody back
then.
After story time, I ventured
down to the chill zone in an effort to make the most of my 8 hours. Maybe there
were like-minded people down to chill. So I took a seat in the chill booth, but
there was nobody there but the two hosts. Grant and a girl. They were super
nice and enthusiastic, but in the people getting paid to hang out with
you kind of way.
Like the guys that take you
out to those bar crawls in Cancun, and their job is to literally party every
night with a bunch of pathetic tourists. I always feel bad for those guys. The
night starts off and they’re all, “hey I’m crazy Craig, and this is
Ta-Ta-Taaaammy! Next stop is Senior Froooogs. Tamster will be handing out blow
job and muff diver shots to get the par-tay going. This guy knows what I'm
talking about.” And then you find yourself at
the end of night with Crazy Craig, and you ask him if he bangs a lot of chicks
because of his job, and he says yes, but in a really sad way. And then he tells
you he wishes he could be in a serious relationship like you, and all he wants
to do is have a night in with a girl he shares something special with. And you
say, "Crazy Craig, you’re really bringing me down. I didn’t pay a hundred
pesos to get my mellow harshed." Then by the end of the night,
all the guys think Tammy likes them, because she’s totally flirting, but then
Craig whispers jealously that she has a boyfriend in a way that makes you think
there’s a bigger story there. And then a prematurely balding guy in cargo
shorts asks Tammy if she knows where he can get some "booger
sugar" and things get even weirder.
Woah, where’d I go? Right, the hosts were straining to pretend they wanted to have a conversation with me. I eventually got the hint, pretended that I only came down for a sandwich bar (not to hit the chill zone, that’s lame) and went back up pod side.
I was still excited about a
night on the road and didn’t want to go to bed right away. So I kept my curtain
open just in case anyone else who couldn’t sleep wanted to talk, tell secrets,
maybe play a little MASH. I really wish I had done that classic sleepover move
and said, “hey are you guys awake?” to see what people would
say. Hopefully a joker in another pod would go “I am now,” and the whole bus
would break out laughing.
As I scanned the area, I
noticed that most of the curtains were closed, except for a few whatsappers;
that’s a nickname I created for European tourists because they fucking love WhatsApp
and are always asking you if you have it, and what the WiFi password is
everywhere they go. Give it up. Just use normal texting and stop pushing your
alt-text agenda. It didn’t seem like there were any CZ candidates, so I sighed
and closed my curtain. If Mötley Crüe were here they’d totally be down to
chill. Regardless, I was pretty stoked - not gonna lie. It was so calming in
there. I pulled up the duvet and took in the view. A life on the road, lead singer
of the rock band Cabin Life, taking it all in and planning out the plank mish
for after the show. After the scenery outside my big window grew tiresome, I
pulled out my iPad, chugged the reverse energy drink and basked in the puzzling
glow of House of Da Vinci.
At about 5am, I awoke to the
weirdest sensation. My ears kept popping little pops. My drums were bloated
like an ear version of morning gas. With every swallow, I kept squeezing out a
tiny stream of ear farts. It didn’t feel right. No one could hear
them, but to me they were deafening. I eventually got all my ear farts out and
passed out again.
I’m still not sure what that
was about. My running theory is that the AC vent was over my head literally two
inches above me because LHBWP. It was blasting cold air directly into my
ear. That might be my one complaint: It was fucking freezing in there (-1 one
star for ear farts). It was so cold, in fact, that I thought they would pull my
curtain and I'd be frozen solid like when Simon Phoenix gets flash creamed at the end of Demolition Man. Then my head would break off and roll over the
edge of the pod and shatter on the ground. And one of the whatsappers would
scream and the German guy would pop his head out of the curtain and go, “that’s
why I take the bottom bunk,” and the whole bus would burst into laughter again.
Cut to my headless body sitting on a bench in Golden Gate Park as the bus
squeals away.
I crashed back to sleep hard
and was later shaken awake by Grant. I had entered a limbo level of deep sleep
and was so confused and unsure where I was or what to do. I eventually stumbled
around and was able to put in my contacts and drink some scope. I suddenly
found myself in the parking lot with no fucking idea what part of the city I
was in. I still don’t know where I was.
It was 7am and my meeting
wasn’t until 11. I was also in sweat pants and had terrible bed head. If I
could find a Korean day spa, I could go there and hit the steam zone, have a
shower - who knows - maybe some BBQ. I Yelped a place called Pearl Spa and
jumped in a Lyft. I ended up in Japantown, and the spa ended up being only for
women and closed. Now I was really confused. I decided to solve the situation
by having a smoke. I never have a first-thing-empty-stomach smoke but when in
San Fran, do as the homeless San Franciscans do, and light up.
I eventually ended up at
Eddies, which was a solid diner: perfect eggs medium, crispy AF bacon,
hilarious mugs. A sign of a good diner is an old wait staff. If you go to
a breakfast place, and the waitress is a hot babe, it's a guarantee that those
bacon strips will be pink and soggy, the whites be run'n like Tom Cruise and
the toast gonna be so under toasted it could be mistaken for stale bread.
Eddie's really turned things around for me. I still looked like a bag
of shit though, so I found the next best thing to a Spa, a nearby gym called
Fitness on Fillmore.
F.F. had a day pass, and it included a pool, hot tub, steam room and sauna.
With my appearance and backpack, I was sure the guy at the gym thought I was homeless.
But then again, the day pass was $30. What hobo could afford that? I asked the
guy if they sold bathing suits. He said no. "Well, do you have a lost and
found?" I was about to ask, but then didn't for all the obvious
reasons. The gym was amazing, solid thick steam, no musty stench.
Everybody maintained great steam etiquette, too, no eye contact, loud talking
or eating. The sauna was extra dry, with a perfect, almost too hot temp.
Electric heat, none of that UV shit you're seeing these days. The kind of sauna
you can dump a bucket of water on, and it can handle it, even if there's a sign
that specifically says not to do that. No one ever listens to that sign; they should
just give up on that. If you're in the sauna, you’re going dump water on that
goddamn heater. Deal with it. Like that old adage, the hiss is half the
fun.
It was worth every dollar. Even if it ended being around a dollar a minute.
It was worth every dollar. Even if it ended being around a dollar a minute.
Cleaned up and steamed up, I
jumped in another Lyft, and hit my big meeting. It was a meeting with a VR
company. I got there, put on the goggles, walked two feet, instantly got motion
sick, went green and almost barfed. I had to sit down and have a T.O. for a few
minutes. Someone gave me a glass of apple juice like I was a toddler. It was
embarrassing.
 |
| Where were these people at? They totally would have hit the chill zone |
And that my friends was my Cabin
experience, would I do it again? I thiiiink I would? This is why: It was kind
of a fun adventure, and I slept like a fucking baby. And it saved me from having
to deal with all the airports, Essentially, I went from downtown to downtown.
No TSA line, check in line, taxi lines, shitty food, taking your laptop out of
your bag - all that bullshit. I also got a brief glimpse into the life of a
touring rock band and can now say I know all about the pod life. But don’t do
it if you’re claustrophobic. For real. You’ll freak the fuck out. Or if you're
heavy set. No offense. I just don’t think you’d fit, tubs.
If you are interested, I’d probably do it sooner than later, though. Just doing the math: There were about ten people on the bus. 10 times 115 is only 1150. Bus, gas, driver, two hosts. There is no way this endeavor is profitable. So it’s a cool little treat right now until it inevitably runs out of venture capital and they start cutting corners. First they’ll stop giving you reverse energy drinks, then there’ll be only one host, next the WiFi will be extra. And before you notice it, the Cabin bus will be rusty and covered in graffiti in a junkyard in Bakersfield sitting beside a mothballed uber jet, a stack of crushed zipcars and a pile of broken bike share bikes.
#PODLIFE #PLANKMISH