The Scene: Mansfield Train Station
Gloomy and Gray Monday, November 22nd 2010. The typical 8:05 crew has lined up near the yellow line (but not over it) to ascend the iron steps to commuter comfort.
Populus is dressed mainly in black felt-peacoats or otherwise- and many patent leather shoes.
CUE: Train Approaching, please stay behind the yellow line. DING DING DING
And then....disaster.
Today was a day like many others. The train approached, people stayed behind the yellow line, and then a wave of anger swept over the professional faces. The train...normally 8 cars long....was 2 short today.
The crowds went wild. People were scrambling to the cars they thought would be the least populated. The anger was escalating. I heard one woman who had jet black, poofy 80s hair and whispy bangs angrily cry out "WHAT IS THIS!?" to which an equally annoyed, average looking gentleman responded "ITS A TRAIN!!"
I walked past that crowd to the opposite end of the train. I boarded, and lo and behold, there was an available seat next to a pleasant man equipped with a bicycle (The kind that fold up....they are allowed on during peak hours). He seemed to also mildly enjoy the surrounding dissapointment of the drones, and I sat there, playing soduku, as each stop brought more and more angry monday commuter maniacs.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
An Alternate Universe
For those of you who have just clicked on this blog link, first of all, Thank you. Secondly, you may think this cannot possibly be a subject of any interest to anyone. The commuter rail is just a simple part of people's lives, just a mode of transportation that does not breed any excitement or wonder. What could you possibly have to say about a train?
Well, quite a bit in fact. I have been taking the commuter rail for many years now, and for many different reasons, and each ride brings forth a whole new host of characters, personalities, and downright strange interactions.
Let me backtrack. I am from the suburbs of Boston. In the burbs, life is typically quiet. Bursting at the seams with mediocrity and routines, the suburbs often are woven with the same thread. Usually the landscape is quilted with colonial filled developments, each one containing a vast network of mid-level professional heads-of-households. While the kids go to school and the inevitable extracurricular sport each day, these professionals go to work. Many of them work locally, but many more work in the city. And even though my town is located right off of 95, to beat traffic, the preferred method of transportation is public...the MBTA commuter rail.
Now, one would be right to assume, that a combination of all of these local professionals would result in a dignified and pleasant ride into the city. But oh, how wrong you are.
There is a force that takes over when you step onto the grimy steps of the commuter rail. An alternate universe that seems to engulf the personality of the rider and turn it down at least 10 negativity points. Things that would never bother you seem to get on your last nerve. You develop a distinct hate for your fellow passengers. Judging a book by it's cover has never been so easy before. Heaven help the poor soul to answer his cellphone, or try to sit in the middle of a three-seater during peak hours.
Well, over the years, I have taken many trains. And on these trains I have seen many things. And from these things I have had many laughs....and I would like to share some of them with you!
Well, quite a bit in fact. I have been taking the commuter rail for many years now, and for many different reasons, and each ride brings forth a whole new host of characters, personalities, and downright strange interactions.
Let me backtrack. I am from the suburbs of Boston. In the burbs, life is typically quiet. Bursting at the seams with mediocrity and routines, the suburbs often are woven with the same thread. Usually the landscape is quilted with colonial filled developments, each one containing a vast network of mid-level professional heads-of-households. While the kids go to school and the inevitable extracurricular sport each day, these professionals go to work. Many of them work locally, but many more work in the city. And even though my town is located right off of 95, to beat traffic, the preferred method of transportation is public...the MBTA commuter rail.
Now, one would be right to assume, that a combination of all of these local professionals would result in a dignified and pleasant ride into the city. But oh, how wrong you are.
There is a force that takes over when you step onto the grimy steps of the commuter rail. An alternate universe that seems to engulf the personality of the rider and turn it down at least 10 negativity points. Things that would never bother you seem to get on your last nerve. You develop a distinct hate for your fellow passengers. Judging a book by it's cover has never been so easy before. Heaven help the poor soul to answer his cellphone, or try to sit in the middle of a three-seater during peak hours.
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