Thursday, February 24, 2011
Captain Bringdown
The daughters rolled their eyes in unison. "There goes mom," I imagine they were thinking, "picking out another depressing loser to befriend on public transportation."
"Okay then," she replied, sensing that lizard brain Mother-Daughter connection, "Can you tell me how to get to Rockefeller Center?"
And so it went, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, my chance to be a positive and constructive ambassador for the choo-choo train. Was it a test? Did I pass? I don't know. What do you think?
Friday, February 18, 2011
Friday Night Report
Tonight I am happily ensconced in my single seat. My only annoyance is the Friday Night Beer Club, which has gathered in the vestibule directly behind me. They were screaming at each other, slapping each other on the back, and speculating about what the babe in the restroom was actually doing even before we pulled out of Grand Central. Then they popped open their first round of tallboys. It could get really nasty in here by East Norwalk. Just now a large woman in a mustard yellow sweatshirt decided to stand next to my seat while she whines to an unseen partner on her cell phone. She has a serious case of the dribbly sniffles so I hope this is only a temporary stop on her personal train journey. There is always hope.
The train characters are back after weeks of being stifled from strutting their stuff due to aisle overcrowding. I have now seen a middle-aged guy wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with "I am Proud to be a Cucky Boy" (look it up) parading up and down the aisle 3 times, and we are only at Mount Vernon! The curious 7-year old boy asking 10 questions a minute about train travel is sitting two rows in front of me. His Dad is getting almost all of the answers wrong, and I am lightly considering an Intervention. Naaaahhh. There is no upside to getting involved.
That is my Friday night report. I think I am going to shut my eyes for thirty minutes and enjoy train normalcy. Have a great weekend, and I will see you on the rails next week.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Priceless
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
Said the Hatter, "If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?" I do see. Our world has become the Mad Hatters world. When I go to CNN.com and read the main headline that the revolt in Egypt is intensifying, and then see that the second headline is about Lindsay Lohan's plea deal, I can easily say that everything is nonsense. When I go to foxnews.com and read an editorial explaining why statutory rape is not really rape, I understand what it wouldn't be, it would. This was a lot to process before even setting foot into the office and I was off my game for the first couple of hours. Lunchtime brought no relief as the Broadway tourist prop shop around the corner was out of stock in the Mad Hatter hat department. I will have to follow-up on this theme in a future post when I can figure out some closure.
SRO on the 7:05 tonight, AKA a normal commute. I ended up in a rare and coveted single seat so you will hear no complaints from me (until the train stops on the tracks for 2 hours for no reason). There was a guy with big sign at Grand Central subway entrance. It read "Life
is a terminal disease. If you are born then you will definitely die. Please help me with a few coins before I do." I did.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Funny Commuting Story (Not)
How did this happen? I really don't know, and nobody is taking bakery numbers to accept responsibility. The truth is that nobody is responsible, and that is how the system was designed. The loosey-goosey relationship between the states of NY and CT and the MTA was intended to obfuscate; intended to make it possible for all parties to finger-point; intended for taxpayers and riders to take the fall. Personally I am very distressed. As I approach my golden years, it has become more and more challenging to deal with the commute on a good day than it was during my salad days. On a bad day, or in this case on a long succession of bad days, it really takes the wind out of my sails. There is nothing funny about riding the trains these days.
Oh, yes....there is a crying baby in the seat behind me.