I never wrote up my last Yankee game, which was a week and a half ago. I'll talk to my therapist about whether I should revisit that one or not.
Anyway, I had a horrible commute this morning. We all have classic dilemmas that haunt us on regular basis... mustard or mayo? venti or grande? fastball or slider? Mine is switch to 2/3 train at 96th st or stay on until 59th?
I've been opting for 59th St for the past year or so, mainly because I'm too damn lazy to walk the extra 15 blocks or so that taking the 2 or 3 to Brooklyn entails. It's about 5 minutes faster, but a real bitch in the rain.
Anyway, things were fine until I got to Broadway/Lafayette for my transfer to the dreaded F. I knew something was wrong right away-- the silent crowd. Everybody huddled at the edge of the platform, afraid to say anything because they don't know anything. No barking announcements, no guys with orange ribbons explaining about an "incident" in Queens somewhere, just silence.
So I waited. And waited. I counted five D trains, four more B's, and three V trains (aka the "male nipple") until something finally came creaking down the local track. It was everyone's nemesis-- the C! That midget-sized cave-train that takes forever to get nowhere. Of course, I was perfectly positioned for an F (third door of the second-to-last car) and horribly positioned for a C. We all started running forward to get in that last car.
Not that I ever actually believed it was a C. I mean, here we were at B-Laf, where Cs don't exist. Yeah, it said C and the b*$%h on the mic said it was a C, but of course we'd be following the Culver line deep into Brooklyn, right? I mean, what's the point of running a C on the F line at 6, no 7 (at least!) in the morning?!
The C dumped us off at Jay St and staggered off into the hood. So we all waited again, for anything that would get us to friggin civilization. Finally, one of those "new" Fs rolled in, like a jerk in a new sweatsuit. Yes, it seemed like a legitimate option. We were gonna make it!
The train was a horror show. It was packed to the gills with people that I didn't even recognize as human, let alone American or New Yorker. Who were they and where did they come from? Queens?! Bayside? Who wears flipflops at 7:30 in the morning?
Worse yet was the stench? I quickly traced it to a bum lying right next to me on the brand new cyber-seat. He was wrapped in a Giants jacket, but don't you dare call this guy a fairweather fan-- this jacket was OLD. Like, pre-LT era. This derelict may have been a Gifford fan, in fact.
Worse still was the train itself. The new MTA trains really are wonders of design, but this one was a little off. The robot announcers were screwing up the stops so bad that we weren't even laughing-- I swear they called Carroll St "Newhouse Avenue". And these new trains are just not built for the rigors of the F course. The stretch from Jay St to 7th Avenue has to be one of the most treacherous in the system-- it's the Hillary Step of the subway system. I love the new trains, but they're just not built for this kind of travel. Between the swaying back and forth and the stink of Dave Jennings, I was ready to lose a few pounds all over my shoes.
Bad bad bad trip. I'm making a personal vow to transfer at 96th at least 75% of the time from now on. These kind of things just don't happen on the 2 train.
Departing time: 6:15 am
Arriving time: 8:00 am
Route: 1 to B to "C" to F
TOTAL TRIP: 1 hour 45 minutes
Showing posts with label MTA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MTA. Show all posts
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Dead Door Heaven
Yesterday I snagged the most coveted spot in the entire MTA subway system. No, I'm not talking about the Railrider's Throne at 116th St., or that warm seat where the fat lady just got up from.
I'm talking about the "dead door" spot. We all love standing in the doors, even when we're not getting off for another ten stops. It pisses people off to no end, but it's a comfy spot nonetheless. I frequently perform the "gentleman's exit" or "okey-doke", where you step off and step back on again just before the doors close, thus reclaiming your door spot.
Anyway, the "dead door" occurs on the rare train with one malfunctioning door in a pair (usually F or A trains, it seems). One door never opens at all, squeezing exiting fares out like toothpaste. That stuck door, my friends, is the best spot on the train.
You get to stand in front of it and soak in all the nasty glares from other riders ("what makes you so special that you can just block the door like that?"), only to gloat in their faces when the door never moves. It's your own private nook, a little slice of heaven. I was standing next to some schmuck who was blocking the "live door" while I stood fast on his left. He was swept out of the car at 66th St. like a newbie on an Alaskan crab boat. He never knew what hit him.
I wondered yesterday if anyone had ever fallen out of a train where the dead door suddenly came to life... a zombie door! Doubt it-- broken shit on subways tends to stay broken.
I'm talking about the "dead door" spot. We all love standing in the doors, even when we're not getting off for another ten stops. It pisses people off to no end, but it's a comfy spot nonetheless. I frequently perform the "gentleman's exit" or "okey-doke", where you step off and step back on again just before the doors close, thus reclaiming your door spot.
Anyway, the "dead door" occurs on the rare train with one malfunctioning door in a pair (usually F or A trains, it seems). One door never opens at all, squeezing exiting fares out like toothpaste. That stuck door, my friends, is the best spot on the train.
You get to stand in front of it and soak in all the nasty glares from other riders ("what makes you so special that you can just block the door like that?"), only to gloat in their faces when the door never moves. It's your own private nook, a little slice of heaven. I was standing next to some schmuck who was blocking the "live door" while I stood fast on his left. He was swept out of the car at 66th St. like a newbie on an Alaskan crab boat. He never knew what hit him.
I wondered yesterday if anyone had ever fallen out of a train where the dead door suddenly came to life... a zombie door! Doubt it-- broken shit on subways tends to stay broken.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The Train that Time Forgot
Nothing special or unspecial about the start to my morning commute. LJ started waaing at around 5:45, I had him playing in his crib by 6:00, he got bored of that by 6:05, and I was out the door at 6:25.
I knew something was amiss when the conductor called every stop from 110th to 79th on the 1 train incorrectly. I mean, he wasn't that far off (like when the automated announcement ones go totally haywire and start spewing names of upper Bronx stops while you're between Union Square and 23rd St, sending most of the riders into a fear-induced panic...)-- he was merely listing stops in the wrong direction. Every time!!!
"Next stop 116th... I mean, 103rd!"
"Next stop 110th... I mean, 96th!"
It was clear (to me, anyway!) that the underground ozone had a few tricks up its sleeve this morning. I chose to ignore the harbinger and soldier on.
I snagged a B train at 59th, while the other suckers crammed into an A. Downtown B is always a winner-- ain't no stepchild to the D, like y'heard. Stepped off at W 4th for the last leg and my known nemesis, the F.
W 4th platform was somewhat jammed up, but not much vim or vigor. It's just too early for people to really bitch. That said, I watched three motherf#$king V Trains drag by over a 15 minute period with no F trains at all.
If the F is becoming my nemesis, the V is the F's putrid manservant-- utterly powerless but ultimately demoralizing. The V is the appendix of the great NYC Transit System, or possibly its left male nipple.
Anyway, I must have waited 20 or so minutes for a damn train that actually goes somewhere! The F finally shows up, pretty packed and pretty late. No fanfare, no explanations, and no matter... we were just going to be late today.
This boring little travelogue is trying to capture the mysterious transit phenomenon where no single moment defines your extended trip, but your lateness is undeniable. No one or thing to blame, but you just lost almost a half hour of your time when you could've been watching Seinfeld, or playing Scramble, or even screwing. We lose enough of our lives on these god-forsaken tunnelboxes-- do we have to lose even more in ways we can't even explain? Where was I exactly, and what was I doing? What should I do next time I fear something like this might happen again?
Take the 2 or 3 train, like I did this afternoon. Nice & smooth, except for the guy built like Albert Pujols that crammed into half a seat, splitting a pair of quiet tourists apart for the time being.
Departing time: 6:25 am
Arriving time: 7:45 am
Route: 1 to B to F
TOTAL TRIP: 1 hour 20 minutes
I knew something was amiss when the conductor called every stop from 110th to 79th on the 1 train incorrectly. I mean, he wasn't that far off (like when the automated announcement ones go totally haywire and start spewing names of upper Bronx stops while you're between Union Square and 23rd St, sending most of the riders into a fear-induced panic...)-- he was merely listing stops in the wrong direction. Every time!!!
"Next stop 116th... I mean, 103rd!"
"Next stop 110th... I mean, 96th!"
It was clear (to me, anyway!) that the underground ozone had a few tricks up its sleeve this morning. I chose to ignore the harbinger and soldier on.
I snagged a B train at 59th, while the other suckers crammed into an A. Downtown B is always a winner-- ain't no stepchild to the D, like y'heard. Stepped off at W 4th for the last leg and my known nemesis, the F.
W 4th platform was somewhat jammed up, but not much vim or vigor. It's just too early for people to really bitch. That said, I watched three motherf#$king V Trains drag by over a 15 minute period with no F trains at all.
If the F is becoming my nemesis, the V is the F's putrid manservant-- utterly powerless but ultimately demoralizing. The V is the appendix of the great NYC Transit System, or possibly its left male nipple.
Anyway, I must have waited 20 or so minutes for a damn train that actually goes somewhere! The F finally shows up, pretty packed and pretty late. No fanfare, no explanations, and no matter... we were just going to be late today.
This boring little travelogue is trying to capture the mysterious transit phenomenon where no single moment defines your extended trip, but your lateness is undeniable. No one or thing to blame, but you just lost almost a half hour of your time when you could've been watching Seinfeld, or playing Scramble, or even screwing. We lose enough of our lives on these god-forsaken tunnelboxes-- do we have to lose even more in ways we can't even explain? Where was I exactly, and what was I doing? What should I do next time I fear something like this might happen again?
Take the 2 or 3 train, like I did this afternoon. Nice & smooth, except for the guy built like Albert Pujols that crammed into half a seat, splitting a pair of quiet tourists apart for the time being.
Departing time: 6:25 am
Arriving time: 7:45 am
Route: 1 to B to F
TOTAL TRIP: 1 hour 20 minutes
Monday, December 8, 2008
D-pressing
Had a nice morning commute (trans-splendent sleep on C train), but met my maker on the flip-side.
Decided to take the F-route home instead of bus-to-Bergen (which has been very kind of late). I was starving, so I picked up a slice at Smiling Pizza.
Went down to the F and was met by utter chaos herself. Totally packed platform, which is ultra-rare for 5 pm (I'm going for an all-time hyphens & parentheses record, by the way). I was just about to gobble down my slice, when a train thundered down the express track-- no beeps and it actually stopped! It was actually taking passengers!
Little to no info was given and little to none was needed. When they let you on an "express train" at the F stop, you get the f%$k on! So I did, and put my slice back in its white paper bag.
The express was packed, and hardly express. We skipped 4th Ave (why??!!), and made the usual stops the rest of the way. I spotted a D at West 4th, and ambled across the platform to my transfer.
The inside seat of a pair of "right angle" seats (or "jutters") was open, and that was about it. I deftly stepped over three women and slid myself into the nook. I guess I slid myself a bit too quick, 'cause my pizza launched out of my paper bag and into the crevasse between the perpendicular seats. Oops.
Only a few people saw my gaffe, but the damage was done. I mourned for about twenty seconds, and then took a quick look under the seat. The slice had jackknifed back towards my leg, and was (unbelievably) tangled in my shoelace! I tried to kick it back under the seat, but only managed to spread tomato sauce all over the toe of my New Balances. An utter disaster.
Not much else to tell, except that I made up for lost time with a slick transfer at 59th St. I also rubbed my shoe off on an old lady's pant leg (just kidding!)...
Departing time: 4:55 pm
Arriving time: 6:05 pm
Route: F to D to 1
TOTAL TRIP: 1 hour 10 minutes
Decided to take the F-route home instead of bus-to-Bergen (which has been very kind of late). I was starving, so I picked up a slice at Smiling Pizza.
Went down to the F and was met by utter chaos herself. Totally packed platform, which is ultra-rare for 5 pm (I'm going for an all-time hyphens & parentheses record, by the way). I was just about to gobble down my slice, when a train thundered down the express track-- no beeps and it actually stopped! It was actually taking passengers!
Little to no info was given and little to none was needed. When they let you on an "express train" at the F stop, you get the f%$k on! So I did, and put my slice back in its white paper bag.
The express was packed, and hardly express. We skipped 4th Ave (why??!!), and made the usual stops the rest of the way. I spotted a D at West 4th, and ambled across the platform to my transfer.
The inside seat of a pair of "right angle" seats (or "jutters") was open, and that was about it. I deftly stepped over three women and slid myself into the nook. I guess I slid myself a bit too quick, 'cause my pizza launched out of my paper bag and into the crevasse between the perpendicular seats. Oops.
Only a few people saw my gaffe, but the damage was done. I mourned for about twenty seconds, and then took a quick look under the seat. The slice had jackknifed back towards my leg, and was (unbelievably) tangled in my shoelace! I tried to kick it back under the seat, but only managed to spread tomato sauce all over the toe of my New Balances. An utter disaster.
Not much else to tell, except that I made up for lost time with a slick transfer at 59th St. I also rubbed my shoe off on an old lady's pant leg (just kidding!)...
Departing time: 4:55 pm
Arriving time: 6:05 pm
Route: F to D to 1
TOTAL TRIP: 1 hour 10 minutes
Friday, December 5, 2008
Trash, Grab-ass & Big Butts
Wow. After Monday's milk run, the rest of the week was smooth as Sade. Not a single trip more than a few minutes over an hour. These days, that's something.
Notables:
1. Enough trash on the Tuesday morning F train that some guy boarded and sighed, "Jesus Christ..."
2. Lee Jr. grabbing some lady's ass at least five times on the uptown afternoon rush 1 train on Wednesday.
3. A cretinous wretch giving me two flat tires going up the 96th St stairs. I turned around and said, "Jesus Christ!!!" right in the guy's Coke-bottled face and watched him scurry away like the blind rat he is.
4. A trio of double-seaters on the downtown morning D train. A skinny lady finally busted up the tushie trifecta by shoving herself between fatso #2 and fatso #3. For the few of us lucky enough to witness this brave act, this woman was nothing less than Rosa Parks.
Notables:
1. Enough trash on the Tuesday morning F train that some guy boarded and sighed, "Jesus Christ..."
2. Lee Jr. grabbing some lady's ass at least five times on the uptown afternoon rush 1 train on Wednesday.
3. A cretinous wretch giving me two flat tires going up the 96th St stairs. I turned around and said, "Jesus Christ!!!" right in the guy's Coke-bottled face and watched him scurry away like the blind rat he is.
4. A trio of double-seaters on the downtown morning D train. A skinny lady finally busted up the tushie trifecta by shoving herself between fatso #2 and fatso #3. For the few of us lucky enough to witness this brave act, this woman was nothing less than Rosa Parks.
Monday, December 1, 2008
No F'ing Way
As promised, I'll be detailing my daily transit commute on a regular basis (I guess "daily" implies regularity.
Today's fiasco took place in the A.M., as opposed to the usual late afternoon nightmare. The Monday after Thanksgiving is never easy-- I was already running late before I got out the front door. After four days in a row with Lee Jr., it's just so hard to say goodbye... (sniff, sniff)
Nothing notable until I started dozing off at the 4th Avenue stop. Not sure how long I "walked the dog" for, but at some point I realized we weren't moving at all. Then the dreaded announcement pierced the elevated platform stop:
"This Coney Island-bound F Train is being taken out of service, due to a sick passenger on board. We have a sick passenger on board this F Train, and we're awaiting arrival of medical assistance. We recommend you find alternate means of travel, such as transferring to the..."
Alternate means of travel?! Helicopter? Zeppelin? Retro-booster backpack? No thanks-- I'll just sit here on the train and wait it out.
After two F's sped by on the center track, I began to consider my alternatives. I also wondered about this "sick passenger"-- it was a little early for a drunk puker. My money was on "dead passenger".
If you've seen the morning BK-bound F ridership lately, you know what I'm talking about. I've seen landfill-style garbage heaps, pools of blood (literally), mini-colonies of tubercular street urchins... and this is all between East Broadway and York St! It's really getting scary.
Either way, I bounded down the stairs to grab a bus. I caught a B75 just in the nick, and started to mentally cut my losses. Then we turned off from 9th St via detour, and there went my morning. Our busful of F transplants let out a collective groan, and some idiot squawked, "No, they really are doing street repairs. I've seen it!" Gee, thanks.
Departing time: 6:35 am
Arriving time: 7:55 am
Route: 1 to A to F to B75
TOTAL TRIP: 1 hour 20 minutes
Today's fiasco took place in the A.M., as opposed to the usual late afternoon nightmare. The Monday after Thanksgiving is never easy-- I was already running late before I got out the front door. After four days in a row with Lee Jr., it's just so hard to say goodbye... (sniff, sniff)
Nothing notable until I started dozing off at the 4th Avenue stop. Not sure how long I "walked the dog" for, but at some point I realized we weren't moving at all. Then the dreaded announcement pierced the elevated platform stop:
"This Coney Island-bound F Train is being taken out of service, due to a sick passenger on board. We have a sick passenger on board this F Train, and we're awaiting arrival of medical assistance. We recommend you find alternate means of travel, such as transferring to the..."
Alternate means of travel?! Helicopter? Zeppelin? Retro-booster backpack? No thanks-- I'll just sit here on the train and wait it out.
After two F's sped by on the center track, I began to consider my alternatives. I also wondered about this "sick passenger"-- it was a little early for a drunk puker. My money was on "dead passenger".
If you've seen the morning BK-bound F ridership lately, you know what I'm talking about. I've seen landfill-style garbage heaps, pools of blood (literally), mini-colonies of tubercular street urchins... and this is all between East Broadway and York St! It's really getting scary.
Either way, I bounded down the stairs to grab a bus. I caught a B75 just in the nick, and started to mentally cut my losses. Then we turned off from 9th St via detour, and there went my morning. Our busful of F transplants let out a collective groan, and some idiot squawked, "No, they really are doing street repairs. I've seen it!" Gee, thanks.
Departing time: 6:35 am
Arriving time: 7:55 am
Route: 1 to A to F to B75
TOTAL TRIP: 1 hour 20 minutes
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