The day has come for me to visit the Lewis County Transit Center. I understand that they make special runs on request, and I stumbled upon a reason to take them up on it.
Someone who is not inclined to have their phone surgically attached to themselves take heed of my unfortunate experience. My quest and expectation to have a face to face encounter with that “public” entity was completely extinguished in the time it took me to walk around the block.
I approached where their large sign seemed to invite me in. But I’m faced with a block-long parking strip, where every stall has warnings of impending doom. Accept this as a hearty handshake and welcome. Park out on the street if you have business here.
Surprisingly, nothing on the windowless brick wall gives me a clue where the entrance may be found, but I do manage to stumble upon a very short walkway that ends at a locked gate. Here we find a device that only opens if you punch in your personal secret code. Mere mortals are not “authorized personnel” and do not have that secret code. Other signs hint, “You’d better watch it fellah, because ‘security cameras are in use.” Now, I begin to see these little welcome notices posted all around, and they are commonly reinforced by mistletoe, constructed of barbed wire, on top of all the fences and gates that secure this elite community.
Foolishly, I continue my quest to seek an audience with the wizard. I might have fared better if I had brought along the broom of the Wicked Witch of the West.
On the opposite side of the property, I find an extended gate for the lot. Nothing out of the ordinary here: caged, locked, festooned with barbed wire and all the (by now) usual threats of towing, surveillance and arrest. But this gate offers two more valuable commands:
“All vendors must use the front entrance.” Where is the front entrance?
And then the thunderbolt: “Office hours: 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Someone please explain to me: What is the purpose of mocking the public by posting office hours alongside the barbed wire and threats of being towed, surveilled or arrested for trespassing?
Well never mind all that, for apparently the security cameras are indeed working. An employee comes out of nowhere to question what this (by now) mumbling maniac is up to.
He takes mercy on me and casually raises a hanging plant mounted on the parking stall wall that reveals what’s under it. “Ring bell for service.”
This final command rendered me completely incapable of speech and I retreated. I’m sorry now that I didn’t heed that instruction. For now I’m wondering what other spectacular oracles I would have experienced if I actually did ring that bell.
From now on, I’ll save my sanity and walk instead.
Dennis Shain
Centralia
