Untethered

It's still surprising to me that, after living in Akron for 25 years, there are places I never knew existed. Or maybe I knew they existed, but only on a theoretical, almost mythical level. Experiencing them first-hand for the first time feels like discovery.

My husband often takes the bus to his job in downtown Akron, and we use public transportation almost as a rule while on vacation in New York, Chicago, Paris, Prague. Deciphering color-coded maps and navigating labyrinthine platforms is part of the adventure of exploring a new city. Emerging from echo-filled subway halls to find ourselves in front of the museum or landmark we had aimed for is a singular kind of victory. And while I never balk at these kinds of adventures in other cities, I--like most other car-owners in the car-centric Midwest--have avoided public transportation in my own hometown.

Until yesterday.

I cancelled my Advanced Conversation Class last night so I could spend the full day with my hubby. He was off work yesterday, so we spent the afternoon exploring downtown Akron.

We kicked off our "hometown adventure" with a bus ride from our near-west-side neighborhood to Main Street in downtown. We walked the half mile from our driveway to a bus stop on a thoroughfare, then we waited.

And waited. And waited.

My husband reassured me that this waiting was an integral part of using mass transit in Akron. Our eyes stayed peeled on the busy intersection just up the street from our stop, hoping that each large vehicle that glinted in the midday sun was our bus. Garbage trucks, delivery vans, and U-Hauls fooled us time after time. My shiny enthusiasm faded as my feet and lower back began to ache from standing on the sidewalk. There are no benches at this bus stop, nor at most of them around town. And it's really lucky that yesterday was so sunny and pleasant because there is no cover from the elements, either. I began to understand why the majority of people at bus stops appear so tired and beaten down.

When our giant chariot finally arrived, only about ten minutes late, I boarded first.

"Hi," I said to the heavy-set, gray-haired driver. "I've never ridden the bus before. I'm faculty at the University of Akron, and I read that faculty and students can ride the bus for free now. Is that true?"

The driver smiled from behind his dilation-grade wrapped sunglasses.

"Yes," he answered with surprising enthusiasm. "You just slide your ID card right here."

I did as he indicated and proceeded onto the bus. My hubby paid his single fare, and we were off. There were only three other people in the vehicle that was clearly meant for at least forty. We arrived at our destination on Main Street in about fifteen minutes.

After a delightfully greasy lunch at one of downtown's better eateries, my hubby and I decided to find the covered walkways and underground tunnels that purportedly allow pedestrians to navigate the bulk of downtown without exposure to the elements. When I had picked up my faculty parking pass a week earlier, I had also picked up a "Downtown Akron Parking Guide," a document that was curiously subtitled "and Skywalk Map."

I'm not the biggest sci-fi buff around, but even I know that if you ever have the opportunity to experience something called a "Skywalk," you should take it.

We started at the parking deck by the former Polsky department store, which is now a part of the university and my new workplace. We climbed to the third floor of the deck and walked across an enclosed bridge that connects to the building's fourth floor. This is just the first of many Escher-esque qualities this converted building presents.

On Polsky's third floor—which always feels like a first floor because it's entrance is the main one used by most people, directly accessed from High Street—I showed my hubby the writing lab where I will be working and introduced him to my new boss. Then we were off to more not-so-secret walkways.

We crossed State Street, one story up, then traversed the Key Building, the Malone Building, and the Ohio Building by means of glass-enclosed, air-born tunnels offering lovely views of rooftops and alleyways I had never seen before. A few hurried people passed us, but we ambled along, enjoying the "Get Moving and Breathe" signs posted at intervals and encouraging office workers to "increase energy levels and health!" We crossed Church Street, still suspended above the fray, and continued through City Hall, which advertised its bureaucracy with notably drab walls and flickering fluorescent lights. After crossing above East Bowery Street, we descended two floors in an elevator and arrived at Main Place. Here I really lost my bearings.

In front of us was a shiny lobby area, almost deserted, and rounded stairs that descended into darkness, like the stairs into a subway station. I quelled the trepidation in my chest and bounded down the steps behind my brave hubby.

I landed not before a bustling, smoky, screeching platform, but a quiet, smooth, slanting hallway lined with back-lit glass block on one side and glittering mounted glass sculptures on the other. I felt I had entered another country.

This was the tunnel that passes beneath Main Street and connects downtown workers to the Cascade Plaza on the west side of the street. I had often heard rumors about tunnels under Akron, often in the context of early Akron history or obvious conjecture. Here was such a tunnel in real life! I snapped a photo with my phone to convince myself it was real. Thudding and muffled grinding sounds pounded ominously overhead. I began to think maybe there was a subway system down here that remained a secret all these years, as well.

We emerged from our underground adventure in front of the First Merit Tower and discovered the source of all that ominous noise: workers were using back-hoes and jackhammers to dig up the cement of the courtyard behind the bank. No secret subway, just quotidian construction.

We capped our day of exploration with a spirited sprint across the Route 59 Interbelt and a pleasant walk to the Glendale Steps. We each picked and ate a sumptuous strawberry from the edible garden planted among the historic steps as fortification for the climb upward. At the top, we strolled the community garden and took the trampled shortcut between houses to Maple Street, where we caught an out-bound Number 26 back to our neighborhood.

Riding the local bus may be a stretch as adventures go, but I feel so much more ownership over my hometown now. My husband and I repeatedly used the word "untethered" to describe how we felt during our time downtown. We didn’t have to worry about feeding a parking meter, or circling back to where a car was parked, or whether traffic would be congested on Exchange Street as the parade of commuters made their way to the expressway at five o'clock.

And even though yesterday's weather was as perfect as it gets in Northeast Ohio, I know that it won't last. Very soon, it will be cold and windy and snowing. And then, knowing how to get from point A to point B under cover and out of the elements will be a survival skill of the first order.