The day started very early..5 a.m. to be precise. It was the intent of mine, as well as some of my friends, to embark on a trip to Atlanta with a Gardner-Webb University club. We were going to experience our first Deaf Expo, as well as an Atlanta Braves game, and were really looking forward to immersing ourselves in a new culture. Oh boy was it new.
We arrived with the group of fellow GWU students to hop aboard GWU transportation that we reserved. As departure encroaches upon us...guess who wasn't accounted a van seat! This girl & her friends. Basically all we were given was an "oh well". If my calculations were correct, there were around 25 people present at departure. There were maybe 22 seats on the vans. 4 of us had to drive seperately. I mean math is not my forte but something did not add up..
We were so thankful when one of us stepped in to drive us all the way to Atlanta and back when he had to work basically the entirety of the next day. Okay. So. In a way, that roadblock had been dealt with. We made it to Atlanta, began to spot fellow GWU students, and repeatedly asked for help. Due to the language barrier aspect of the trip, I was clueless. All 4 of us were. Completely. Clueless. We were stuck in Atlanta, Georgia with no where to go and no clue when to go even if we did know where. On the flipside, we did meet some pretty cool Deaf people from different states.
After the Deaf Expo was over, we were finally clued in as to an inkling of what was going on. Well, at least we thought we were. We still had no clue what to do. Myself and my friends were stuck with nowhere to go for a good bit of time, so we took the AirTrain from the convention center to Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, where our MARTA station is in order to purchase our MARTA passes. FYI- MARTA is not a person. It is a train/bus system that services metro Atlanta. Geez.
We purchase our MARTA passes, thinking that the trip was still following the itenerary. It's a good thing we went back to find "our group", or whatever you want to call it at this point. After flagging them down, turns out, everyone else didn't have to ride MARTA, even though the itenerary stated we all would. That's the only reason we bought MARTA passes. Everyone else rode in the GWU van. We didn't have that luxury; we had two options. Pick up our car and park it at Turner Field for $30, or use the MARTA passes we already bought.
After finding this out, we book it to the SkyTrain, which took us to our MARTA station. We got on the train & after 7 stops, made it to the Braves shuttle. 15 more minutes and we were at what we thought was the light at the end of the tunnel. No pun intended.
We spotted "our group" and received our tickets. At this point, our main goal was to find our seats and enjoy the game. This actually was a really great game, and we definitely made some lifetime memories. The weather was perfect, the Braves beat the Mets, and the fireworks show was beautiful.
This is where the real fun starts. It's about 10:30 p.m. in downtown Atlanta on a Saturday night. We had no choice to take the MARTA back to our car at the convention center, since the day incurred more costs than originally intended and we couldn't really afford to park again. So we board our exhuasted selves on the Braves shuttle back to the train station. Once we reach the station, we swipe our passes in and board the Southbound train back to the airport. If you know anything about Atlanta, riding southbound at nearly midnight is a terrible idea. In fact, it wasn't even our idea, but we had no choice.
So we boarded the train and after the first stop south, a particular man on a mission of sorts boards the train. He appears to be very old and very drunk. So drunk, in fact, he begins to cause a scene or 20 to get attention. Myself and several of my friends made the mistake of looking his way, which was his cue to start talking at us and threatening us. I didn't want trouble, but he sure did. There were several moments when I honestly thought something dangerous would happen to us and "our group" was on its merry way back to GWU, safe in their van. They didn't know where we were, and I had the slightest idea that they did not care. If something had happened to us, they wouldn't even know.
I was able to breathe a bit easier with each stop that our train made. However, our old passenger was along the ride until the stop right before ours. We made 6 stops with him on board, and I was never so happy to stop at College Park until that night. I had never been so scared, and felt so threatened until we took that train. We made our final stop, took the Skytrain back to the convention center, got in the car, and made the 3+ hour drive back to GWU.
I don't write this with the intention of breaking the record for world's longest rant, or to bash any particular party involved. I write this as a cautionary tale. For all my friends in college who think they can trust their officers, advisors, professors, fellow classmates, etc...that's what I thought yesterday morning when I arrived at 6:15 a.m. to claim my seat on a van I paid for. That's what I thought when I bought my MARTA pass.
I trusted those people to make sure I got transported to events I paid for. I trusted those people to make sure my life wasn't in danger. I trusted people who most likely didn't even know my name.
There are very few people you can trust. That day, there were a total of 3 people I knew I could trust, and they were right there with me. If something had happened to me on that train last night, those 3 people were the only ones who would have known. We kept each other sane and safe, and even had a few good laughs. College is a learning curve, and yesterday, I learned a lot. I learned how to sign with Deaf people in an emergency situation. I learned how to fend for myself in the middle of an international airport. I learned how to stay safe on the train late at night.
I wouldn't even refer to what I did on Saturday as a group trip. It was the first and last trip I will take with this club. As far as I'm concerned, I took a day trip with 3 friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment