Exchange Zones and the Rider Experience

Introduction

What do roller coasters and public transit have in common? 

When users stand in line for a roller coaster or for public transit, at the very least, they trust that it will be safe. People wouldn’t stand in line for something they perceive as dangerous.

The anticipation people experience in line for a roller coaster or waiting for a train to arrive is based on their expectations of the experience itself. Will the roller coaster be underwhelming? Will the bus ride be peaceful? Will the roller coaster be too aggressive on the neck? Will the train ride stick to the online schedule? 

Safety is a subconscious necessity of both. Experience is a conscious expectation.

Exchange Zones can enhance both the safety and enjoyment of public transit experiences. In this blog, we illustrate what a day looks like for an office commuter, a tourist, and a local when public transit and Exchange Zones work together in harmony.

The Commuter

Pete has spent the last hour opening his email, getting overwhelmed by unopened messages, and closing it again. He’s been thinking of getting one of those mouse jiggers that keeps the computer active without him touching the mouse. He decides that would be a slippery slope. If he can survive just 30 more minutes, he’ll be able to balance out his coffee crash with a much-needed glass of Jack and Coke.

The next 30 minutes pass by like a kid on a dry water slide in the summer: slowly and painfully. But the minute 5:00 hits, Pete shuts down his computer, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and heads to the door to experience New York City air for the first time that day since 7 am when he commuted from Jersey.

Pete’s exhausted. In a near burn-out experience, just two more sets of 0s and 1s might have set him over the edge. He drags himself down the subway stairs, swipes his MetroCard, and mentally checks out while waiting for the train. When it comes, he mentally times his journey and texts Rob his ETA for happy hour. 

The subway packs passengers in sardines today (like most days) and today Pete could really have used a seat (like most days). If he has to carry the load of his computer, his notebook, and his too-large pump of hand-sanitizer on his back much longer, he decides he may develop a hunchback. He’ll have to assume when it’s his turn to cross the crosswalk like those old men who can’t pick their heads up enough to see the red hand switch to the person walking.

The subway arrives at Pete’s stop. He does a B-line for the Exchange Zone, pulls out his phone, opens his Relai App, and schedules enough time for him and Rob to indulge in two drinks at least. And maybe some nachos too. He adds a bit more time. Pete taps his screen, the Exchange Zone door unfastens, and Pete throws the weight of his day into the compartment. 

He’ll never get over that liberating feeling of relieving himself of his backpack and feeling lighter walking out of the subway. And more human. The subway from the office to the bar had become a portal of relief for Pete as he unfailingly always felt unshackled from his corporate life upon scaling those final sets of subway stairs.

He reaches the bar, gives Rob a brotherly hug, and thanks him for ordering his glass of Jack and Coke. The bar is crammed with other men and women who have just finished work. Pete’s surprised Rob was able to secure a spot. 

Pete glances at Rob’s messenger bag stuffed under the counter between Rob’s feet and a pair of razor-sharp stilettos next to him. Pete winces at the thought of those death traps lingering alarmingly close to his friend’s expensive computer. He takes a breath at the thought of his backpack safely secured from outside lurkers and women’s shoes in a password-protected location only he can access. 

Pete and Rob talk about everything but work. They laugh. They befriend the bartenders and rapport their way to a free drink. Rob drops guacamole on his suit from the nachos and complains that his wife’s gonna kill him for this. 

When they’ve had enough and start to crash, they hug and agree to do this again soon. Pete heads back down towards the subway, pulls out his phone, opens his Relai App, and taps the screen to open his Exchange Zone compartment. He picks up his bag and hops on the subway to Penn Station. Under the weight of the caffeine crash, the drinks, and the nacho-induced food coma, Pete’s backpack feels 50x heavier. 

Before Pete gets on the train back to New Jersey, he decides that he won’t use any of the work necessities adding to the weight of his backpack until tomorrow. He finds the Exchange Zone at Penn Station and treats himself to another ride without his belongings, knowing he can just schedule enough time to pick them up tomorrow morning when the next work day starts. 

When his wife arrives at the train station to pick him up, she sees that he’s empty-handed. Empty hands make for open arms. Open arms make for fuller, more complete hugs. They embrace. He twirls her. And then they hop in the car to go home and do it all again tomorrow. 

The Tourists

Tom and Melissa are nerds. 

Exploring textbooks and biographies creates as much excitement for them as normal people would derive from coming upon an unoccupied, unlocked, fully running Mercedes Benz and stealing it without consequence.

The two of them decide that if they drag their kids to the nation’s capital, the kids might start to appreciate history more (or at least understand scattered references at the dinner table). To convince the six and eight-year-olds to embark on this journey, it takes an impressive amount of fabrication and exaggeration coupled with an unruly amount of toys. To Melissa and Tom, it’s worth it.

Tom and Melissa hope to at least explore a couple of museums and check the big-wig monuments off their bucket lists. Admissions fees be damned. They only have the day to explore– it’s not often (perhaps rarely) that both Tom and Melissa can take off work on a day both kids have no school. 

They arrive at Union Square after hours of trying to encourage the kids to play GeoGuessr (if they demand on using their iPads). Instead, the kids had refused the whole way to DC and insisted on traveling down a stream of YouTube rabbit holes and giggling at jokes they didn’t understand until they got motion sickness.

Tom and Melissa distribute their belongings amongst their four shoulders and four wrists after disembarking from the train. While watching Tom struggle to carry everything, Melissa asserts that they should put some of their belongings in a Union Station Exchange Zone. The iPad that kept the kids occupied on the train might distract them from the DC attractions. 

Melissa opens her Relai App, follows the in-app prompts, watches as the door opens, and drops off everything she knows the family doesn’t need until the ride home. With newfound liberation, Melissa holds her daughter’s hand and navigates the family through the bustling Union Station to the DC Circulator stop.

Once the vehicle arrives, they hop on and spend the ride explaining to the kids (with all the theatrics they can muster) that they’re going to spend the first part of the day at a huge fancy building where famous people gather to decide the country’s future. 

After they arrive, Tom and Melissa beam at the budding curiosity they see in their children. Even questions like “What’s that?” create an unmatched sense of pride for the couple. Tom and Melissa buy their kids funky America-themed hats and other overpriced knick-knacks because why not? They’re on vacation. 

They grab lunch and navigate to the National Mall. The kids, with an everlasting supply of energy, run free on the lawn, giggling with their kites and unashamedly staring to observe the people around them. After they tire themselves out, Melissa and Tom place all of their bags and new knick-knacks in an Exchange Zone at a nearby Metro Bus station. They venture out to take in the monuments they’ve been dying to see.

Having parted with their backpacks, Melissa and Tom take both kids on a piggyback ride to the next attraction, inciting laughs and excitement. Passing notable landmarks inspires long-winded history tangents by both parents. And the kids are locked in. They look up at Lincoln with big, glossy eyes, understanding for the first time that this country was and still is built on a stream of sagas just like the ones they read in storybooks.

When everyone’s ready to go, Melissa and Tom head back to the Metrobus station, re-open their Relai App and pick up their bags. They take the Metrobus to Union Station. Before reaching their track, they pick up their bags from the Exchange Zone, reuniting with the kids’ iPads.

On the train, the kids forget their iPads exist. They fall fast asleep in Tom and Melissa’s arms the whole ride home.

The Locals

Work-Life Balance

Kevin lives in Philadelphia, but he travels so much for work that he hardly unpacks his suitcase anymore. To maintain his work-life balance, he lives minute to minute. He mostly travels during the week, so he reserves his weekend to hang out with his friends in Philly. This works for him, but it’s often a chaotic hustle from one place to another.

This weekend, his friends have planned a hefty itinerary. On Friday night, they plan to see a movie, grab dinner, and then go out to a bar. Kevin should land just in time to get to the movies while they’re playing trailers.

With no delays, thankfully, Kevin starts his journey to the movie theater from the airport to meet up with his friends. As he disembarks from the bus, he realizes that it’ll be annoying to carry his suitcase and backpack to the movie theater, dinner, and the bar. How’s he supposed to navigate the stairs of a bar or flirt with a woman he’s been interested in for the past year when he’s lugging around everything he owns?

Kevin decides that he’ll save himself a burden today and quickly stores his luggage in the Exchange Zone at the bus stop. He pulls out his phone, opens his Relai App, follows the in-app prompts, watches as the door unfastens, and drops his belongings off in the Exchange Zone. He wastes no time.

He makes his way to the movie theater to see the trailers are still running. His friends see that he isn’t holding anything and ask him if he’d had the time to stop at his apartment. Kevin explains that, no, his bags are just in an Exchange Zone so that he doesn’t have to worry about them tonight. He’ll pick them up later when he takes the bus home. 

They finish the movie, have a delectable dinner at their favorite restaurant in Philly, and walk over to the bar. With his free hands, he asks the woman he’s been interested in if she’d like to dance. She accepts.

Local Event

Annika may as well have thought of her parents as Drill Sergeants. They’re hands-on, tough-love, no-nonsense attitude parents. She wasn’t allowed to entertain a romantic relationship until college. When she turned 21 in the city she grew up in (Richmond, Virginia), Annika was still far more acquainted with its coffee shops than its bars.

Now, she’s got her apartment downtown, a friend group that values spontaneity, and has a recent exile of Life 360 from her phone. Her first order of business as a liberated young adult is a music festival. 

Iron Blossom starts in an hour and Annika lets her eyes graze across the three outfits she’d bought for the event. She fills a backpack with two of them and any necessities she might need. Iron Blossom will happen rain or shine, so she packs an umbrella. She packs snacks, water, bandaids, sunglasses, sunscreen, deodorant, and more. She thinks through everything her three friends might forget.

She changes into her outfit and convenes with three of her other friends, who gawk at her huge bag. 

“How are you even supposed to dance?” one asks.

“Good luck trying to survive a crowd crush under that thing,” another remarks. 

They take the bus over to the event, and while Annika doesn’t want to part with her belongings, she decides that she can’t fully enjoy the festival with them. When they get off at the stop by Iron Blossom, she approaches the Exchange Zone, opens her Relai App, follows the in-app prompts, and drops off her bag. It’s close enough that if she needs to retrieve items from her bag, she can simply walk from the festival to access the location.

Three hours bring Annika and her friends over 500 photos, patches of sunburns, dehydration, and eight big armpit sweat stains. Annika drags her friends back to the Exchange Zone and picks up her sunscreen, reusable water bottle, and another outfit. Her friends glop on the sunscreen and attack the water like it’s their holy grail. Annika goes to a nearby bathroom, changes into another outfit and reapplies deodorant, appearing like a Vogue model next to her friends who are still drenched in sweat and the smell of socks.

Annika places her bag in the Exchange Zone again and returns to the festival to see the headliners she’d been waiting for. When her favorite bands look into the crowd, amongst a sea of exhausted, sunburnt, sweaty fans grasping for stamina, they see a young and refreshed Annika, enjoying her city’s exhilaration for the first time.

Her bus ride back to her apartment is the peaceful ribbon atop this gift of a day.

Conclusion

Public transit plays an integral role in a convenient city experience. There are many ways to enhance the convenience public transit already offers. Amidst the volume of technological inventions released each day, it can be easy to forget to build on the technologies that communities already rely on.

Conveniences exist so you can enjoy the things that matter. Time with your friends and family. Holding hands, hugs, and sharing a dance. You must first unite with the people that matter, and then it takes clearing your mind and hands to truly relish in the company.

Public transit is already great. Exchange Zones can make it greater.

Contact us to see how you can create better public transit experiences for the people in your city.