Trip 22: From CoCommercial to Brave Island
Comment Replies
Lugnuts25000: Thanks for your helpful comment! I haven't got the SFBT tram mod installed, though.
(x+x^2)^2/x: Thank you for your comment!
CTMandR: Thanks for your comment! I always try to do a smooth transition to a CBD, just like I see in Europe!
k50dude: Thanks for your comment, too! I spent a whole afternoon in doing it, but when I saw the result I thought it had been worth...
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Lugnuts25000: Thanks for your helpful comment! I haven't got the SFBT tram mod installed, though.
(x+x^2)^2/x: Thank you for your comment!
CTMandR: Thanks for your comment! I always try to do a smooth transition to a CBD, just like I see in Europe!
k50dude: Thanks for your comment, too! I spent a whole afternoon in doing it, but when I saw the result I thought it had been worth...
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Carrer del Darrere (Back Street), Costa Verda (Green Coast), 15:45
I was driving on the south of the island, looking for customers, when I recieved a call from the Central. They told me to go to a near place, Back Street, besides CoCommercial.
I was driving on the south of the island, looking for customers, when I recieved a call from the Central. They told me to go to a near place, Back Street, besides CoCommercial.
CoCommercial is the popular nickname for Costa Verda Commercial Center, part of the Costa Verda Leisure Zone, very near the amusement park, some retailers, and the Olympic Hotel. While driving along Back Street I saw a woman making me signs to stop, I did it when I saw a safe place.
"Good afternoon... Where do we go?"
"Brave Island, please."
"Uhhhh... there's no bridge to Brave Island, lady."
"I want to go by taxi, take the ferry in Cap de la Plata."
"Are you sure?"
"It's the fastest way, I have to reach the island as soon as possible!"
"OK, OK..."
I started the engine, seeing that the woman was getting more nervous. I went to Avinguda de l'Atlàntic (Atlantic Avenue) and turned left, again driving along the most important avenue in the country.
"Good afternoon... Where do we go?"
"Brave Island, please."
"Uhhhh... there's no bridge to Brave Island, lady."
"I want to go by taxi, take the ferry in Cap de la Plata."
"Are you sure?"
"It's the fastest way, I have to reach the island as soon as possible!"
"OK, OK..."
I started the engine, seeing that the woman was getting more nervous. I went to Avinguda de l'Atlàntic (Atlantic Avenue) and turned left, again driving along the most important avenue in the country.
CoCommercial was full of people right now. Kids had gone out the school and they were hanging around with their friends. It is the most popular place in Costa Verda and one of the meeting points of southern Illa de Nova Catalunya (New Catalonia Island).
"Can you drive a little faster?"
"I cannot, I'm driving at 50 km/h, that's the limit..."
"I see..."
"Are you in a hurry?"
"Yes. I have a problem in Brave Island."
"What happens?"
"My dad has burnt his hand while cooking... He's being helped by a neighbour, but I think I have to be the one who helps."
"I can stand there if you need some help. If you, we can take him to the Islands clinic."
"Can you drive a little faster?"
"I cannot, I'm driving at 50 km/h, that's the limit..."
"I see..."
"Are you in a hurry?"
"Yes. I have a problem in Brave Island."
"What happens?"
"My dad has burnt his hand while cooking... He's being helped by a neighbour, but I think I have to be the one who helps."
"I can stand there if you need some help. If you, we can take him to the Islands clinic."
I turned right following the avenue, taking Pont de l'Acer (Steel Bridge).
[Yes, I've installed a new water mod, I think it's much nicer than the previous one.]
"Do ferries arrive from here to Brave Island?"
"No, I've searched it in the Internet, and the only ferries going to Brave island set off from Cap de la Plata."
"Do I have to take you to your dad's home?"
"Yes, please. It is a long walk far from the ferry terminal and I am hurry. If my dad hadn't hurt, I would go walking, but not under this circumstances..."
"Do ferries arrive from here to Brave Island?"
"No, I've searched it in the Internet, and the only ferries going to Brave island set off from Cap de la Plata."
"Do I have to take you to your dad's home?"
"Yes, please. It is a long walk far from the ferry terminal and I am hurry. If my dad hadn't hurt, I would go walking, but not under this circumstances..."
Costa Verda is the wealthiest city in Alarconia, where "la crême de la crême" lives. The avenue runs besides the city, very near the coast. They had excellent beaches and super-expensive apartments in the coast first line.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked. I needed to.
"Yes, I guess..."
"Why did you went off Brave Island?"
"How?"
"Well, you know... I know a very few people native from Brave Island. They tend to stay forever in the island as their parents did..."
"I was fed up."
"Fed up with what?"
"It's a long story..."
"When a customer says this, it means that he or she doesn't want to talk about it..." I said, full of experience. She didn't reply.
We arrived to another retailer district, very near the Costa Verda ferry terminal, where no ferries go to Brave Island.
This was the edge of Costa Verda, still in Atlantic Avenue. Although it wasn't rush hour, there was plenty of traffic in this part of town. Some meters later.
"So how do you go to Brave Island when you aren't in a hurry?"
"I usually take a bus to Cap de la Plata and then take the ferry. Then, I walk to my family's house. It's a long stretch..."
"I've only been a couple of times in Brave Island..." I said.
"Under which circumstances?" I didn't like this question.
"I was visiting a school friend..." I said.
We had left behind the municipality border and entered in Cap de la Plata, driving along the Pont Nou (New Bridge).
We had an urban bus following us, they only run inside Alarconia City municipality or connect the different coastal towns with the capital; they are easily recognisable for their white livery, in contrast with the blue livery ones, inter-urban buses.
The stressed woman took her cell phone and made a long call. As I could hear, she was talking with a friend of her who was taking care of my customers' son. She was quite worried about the boy's homework.
"Do you have kids?" she asked, to talk about something.
"No, I don't. I'm single..."
"I guess you're lucky..."
"I'm not sure about it. I sometimes enjoy a woman's presence."
"You're rounded of different people all day long, if I were you I would be tired of people..." she said.
We had entered now in Cap de la Plata, following the signs that pointed to the ferry terminal.
Today, Cap de la Plata's beaches were empty, it was a cloudy day.
"Now turn right in the next crossing." she said.
"I know, I know..." I replied, keeping cool. I thought she had infected me with her nervousism, so I changed my radio station from a music station to my favourite news radio station.
I turned right on the next crossing, just before arriving to the end of Atlantic Avenue.
Just before entering the main platform, I paid 20 AL$ in the tollbooth (5 AL$ per person + 10 AL$ per car). My customer whispered that the ATMA (Autoritat del Transport Metropolità d'Alarcònia) (Alarconian Metropolitan Transport Authority) were a bunch of thieves and I thought she was right while I was watching a ferry coming to the port.
Ten minutes later, we had permission to go on board with the taxi.
We were forced to leave the car and go to the passengers' zone, and five minutes later, the ferry took off from the port. I didn't want to stay sit again, so I stayed on my feet leaning on the ferry railing. I felt how the wind hit my face and how the waves were rolling the ship. My customer came to my side.
"I'm going to tell you why I left Brave Island."
"The long story..."
"Yes. I'm a single mom, I don't know who's the father of my son."
"I'm sorry..." I said, while a high wave hit the ferry. I felt drops of water in my face.
"It was a very weird time for me, no school, no college, always partying, always with boys I barely knew, you know..." she confessed.
"It must be hard in Brave Island, everybody knows everybody."
"That's the point. When I got pregnant, people pointed me with the finger and talked back to me; it was horrible."
"So you fled the island."
"Exact. I didn't wanted to grow my son in such a horrible enviroment."
We talked about that during all the travel until we arrived to Brave Island ferry terminal.
Brave Island is a strange place in the Atlantic Democratic Republic of Alarconia. As the other islands, it has its own goverment and its own parliament, the Consell Insular (Insular Council). It is a tiny piece of land, it has roughly 6.000 inhabitants and is called Brave because was the place where Alarconian goverment hid during the nazi bombins during the Second World War. Nobody would look for them in a small church there. The island imports everything except fish, that is captured by bravians and they have a zero-trash policy, exporting the few trash they produce to the National Landfill.
I started the engine and went off the ferry when the operator gave me the permission.
"Now you have to guide me. I don't know the island..."
"Go to the roundabout and take the avenue."
The roudabout was called Daniel J. Alarcón Plaza and the avenue was Alarconia Avenue. I took it and run at the maximum speed I was allowed. A couple minutes later, she told me to turn left on the first street.
I stopped the taxi where she told me, and I quickly did the sum. 29.55 AL$ for the trip + 20 AL$ for the travel did 49.55. She gave me a 50 AL$ banknote and she left without saying goodbye, running to the block's front door.
I turned down the radio and called the Central. I should carry someone going to New Catalonia Island because I didn't wanted to pay the extra 15 AL$ to go back. And then, I felt sad.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked. I needed to.
"Yes, I guess..."
"Why did you went off Brave Island?"
"How?"
"Well, you know... I know a very few people native from Brave Island. They tend to stay forever in the island as their parents did..."
"I was fed up."
"Fed up with what?"
"It's a long story..."
"When a customer says this, it means that he or she doesn't want to talk about it..." I said, full of experience. She didn't reply.
We arrived to another retailer district, very near the Costa Verda ferry terminal, where no ferries go to Brave Island.
This was the edge of Costa Verda, still in Atlantic Avenue. Although it wasn't rush hour, there was plenty of traffic in this part of town. Some meters later.
"So how do you go to Brave Island when you aren't in a hurry?"
"I usually take a bus to Cap de la Plata and then take the ferry. Then, I walk to my family's house. It's a long stretch..."
"I've only been a couple of times in Brave Island..." I said.
"Under which circumstances?" I didn't like this question.
"I was visiting a school friend..." I said.
We had left behind the municipality border and entered in Cap de la Plata, driving along the Pont Nou (New Bridge).
We had an urban bus following us, they only run inside Alarconia City municipality or connect the different coastal towns with the capital; they are easily recognisable for their white livery, in contrast with the blue livery ones, inter-urban buses.
The stressed woman took her cell phone and made a long call. As I could hear, she was talking with a friend of her who was taking care of my customers' son. She was quite worried about the boy's homework.
"Do you have kids?" she asked, to talk about something.
"No, I don't. I'm single..."
"I guess you're lucky..."
"I'm not sure about it. I sometimes enjoy a woman's presence."
"You're rounded of different people all day long, if I were you I would be tired of people..." she said.
We had entered now in Cap de la Plata, following the signs that pointed to the ferry terminal.
Today, Cap de la Plata's beaches were empty, it was a cloudy day.
"Now turn right in the next crossing." she said.
"I know, I know..." I replied, keeping cool. I thought she had infected me with her nervousism, so I changed my radio station from a music station to my favourite news radio station.
I turned right on the next crossing, just before arriving to the end of Atlantic Avenue.
Just before entering the main platform, I paid 20 AL$ in the tollbooth (5 AL$ per person + 10 AL$ per car). My customer whispered that the ATMA (Autoritat del Transport Metropolità d'Alarcònia) (Alarconian Metropolitan Transport Authority) were a bunch of thieves and I thought she was right while I was watching a ferry coming to the port.
Ten minutes later, we had permission to go on board with the taxi.
We were forced to leave the car and go to the passengers' zone, and five minutes later, the ferry took off from the port. I didn't want to stay sit again, so I stayed on my feet leaning on the ferry railing. I felt how the wind hit my face and how the waves were rolling the ship. My customer came to my side.
"I'm going to tell you why I left Brave Island."
"The long story..."
"Yes. I'm a single mom, I don't know who's the father of my son."
"I'm sorry..." I said, while a high wave hit the ferry. I felt drops of water in my face.
"It was a very weird time for me, no school, no college, always partying, always with boys I barely knew, you know..." she confessed.
"It must be hard in Brave Island, everybody knows everybody."
"That's the point. When I got pregnant, people pointed me with the finger and talked back to me; it was horrible."
"So you fled the island."
"Exact. I didn't wanted to grow my son in such a horrible enviroment."
We talked about that during all the travel until we arrived to Brave Island ferry terminal.
Brave Island is a strange place in the Atlantic Democratic Republic of Alarconia. As the other islands, it has its own goverment and its own parliament, the Consell Insular (Insular Council). It is a tiny piece of land, it has roughly 6.000 inhabitants and is called Brave because was the place where Alarconian goverment hid during the nazi bombins during the Second World War. Nobody would look for them in a small church there. The island imports everything except fish, that is captured by bravians and they have a zero-trash policy, exporting the few trash they produce to the National Landfill.
I started the engine and went off the ferry when the operator gave me the permission.
"Now you have to guide me. I don't know the island..."
"Go to the roundabout and take the avenue."
The roudabout was called Daniel J. Alarcón Plaza and the avenue was Alarconia Avenue. I took it and run at the maximum speed I was allowed. A couple minutes later, she told me to turn left on the first street.
I stopped the taxi where she told me, and I quickly did the sum. 29.55 AL$ for the trip + 20 AL$ for the travel did 49.55. She gave me a 50 AL$ banknote and she left without saying goodbye, running to the block's front door.
I turned down the radio and called the Central. I should carry someone going to New Catalonia Island because I didn't wanted to pay the extra 15 AL$ to go back. And then, I felt sad.
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