Moral Crises on the Red Line, Part II

Anyone who knows me knows of my tendency to look at life and its various situations with a “worst case scenario” eye. While waiting for the train, I’ve occasionally wondered what I would do if someone pushed me onto the tracks. I stand well back, even when its not too crowded.

For someone like me, though, there’s a similar question, a moral dilemma: What would I do if someone fell or jumped from the platform while I was standing there? Would I be the kind of person to help? Or the kind who watches while others help? Would I offer a hand? As my friend Michelle says, “Not bloody likely.” And that makes me feel like a worthless human being.

Certainly, it seems as though people are tumbling into the pit and onto the tracks with some regularity. For its part, the MBTA says it is not more common than it ever was, but our endless news cycle makes it seem as such.

In a recent editorial, the Boston Globe applauded the MBTA for releasing videos of people falling onto the tracks.

“Other cities shy away from releasing surveillance footage that has the potential to embarrass, unless there’s a compelling reason like needing assistance in solving a crime. But with all the recent attention given to people who fell or were pushed in front of oncoming trains in New York, the T’s policy is important for public safety.”

The editorial went on to say that the MBTA should go further, by instructing riders as to how they should respond when someone wanders off the platform. “Jump in after them” is the wrong answer. The right answer is: Alert a T official (good luck finding one when you need one), but more important, the Globe said, “onlookers should encourage those who have fallen to rush to the end of the platform — away from the direction of any approaching trains — to climb up ladders.”

Now this is great advice, and I feel so much better after reading it. Because lives can be saved. And it solves one of the many moral dilemmas we face each day as we ride the Red Line.

Moral Crises on the Red Line, Part I

Every now and then the ride to work provides a glimpse into my innermost psyche, a snapshot of the person I truly am, and it’s not always pretty. Take this week, the week following the great blizzard of ’13. As one might imagine, the T was pretty crowded this week. One day, as I sat with my nose in my magazine, a man sat next to me. As we all know, the seats are kind of tight together, and while he wasn’t a terribly large man, I certainly was cognizant of someone landing there. He had a bag that he put on the floor between his feet, then he put his hands together and clapped them, silently but rapidly, much in the way someone might if they had, for example, a mental illness.

I didn’t think much of it. As I said, I was concentrating on my Harper’s. Although it pains me to admit this, I didn’t really pay much attention until I smelled him. You know the smell: eau de homelessness. Now, there is a part of me—my heart—that goes out to someone in that situation. A part of me that cannot believe we live in a society where some people do not have a roof over their heads on some (most?) nights.

But then there is also that other part of me. The selfish part, the part that doesn’t want any trouble. The part that, for an instant, looked across the aisle at empty seats and actually thought, “Should I move?”

I didn’t move, but not because I am a good person. I didn’t move because I didn’t want to be obvious. I didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings and I didn’t want my fellow riders to see what a lowdown, selfish, elitist snob I am at heart. He got off the train at Park Street, after some additional unusual behavior involving his hands.

Oldsters and Cool Dudes

Just before Christmas, it happened for the first time. I didn’t exactly run for the train, but when I entered the station and heard the familiar announcement—“The next Red Line train to Braintree is now approaching”—I knew I had a chance to make it if I walked briskly.

I was one of the last people to step aboard, and despite my earlier-than-usual schedule (I was going inbound, to work), no seats were to be had in my car. I walked down the center aisle a few steps just to see if there might be some empty space somewhere, then retreated to reclaim my original position near a pole and a door.

A young woman (by young I mean, twenties) sat in the first seat, just to my left.  Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed her look at me once, then a second time. I glanced down and my gaze met hers. The sweet young thing looked up at me and asked, innocently, “Do you want to sit?”

Do I want to sit? How the hell old do I look? That’s what I wanted to ask. But instead, I said, a bit too quickly, “Oh, no, thanks. That’s okay.”

And so passed my first experience on the train as an old person.

Looking back, I have had young men offer me a seat here and there from time to time. But this was the first instance of another woman sensing my fragility and offering some comfort. Part of me wanted to sock her. The other part really, really wanted to sit down.

The whole incident made me reminisce about my own youth, and the many times I offered my seat to an elder (but, man, is it scary to think I'm an elder).  Rarely did anyone accept the offer, and now I sort of know why. No one wants to appear needy or vulnerable. No one wants to owe anyone anything, or be indebted to them. 

Which is why I will always regard the cool dudes as the most kind and generous souls on any form of public transportation. The cool dudes don't ask; they just get up. They are sitting right there in front of you, so you are the only person who can possibly take their seat. They stand up, their ear buds hardly shifting, there is absolutely no eye contact. They lightly grip the pole near the door, like they are going to get off soon, anyway. They don't need to speak, their aim is true. Long may they ride.

A New Revenue Stream for the T?

Okay, so it's been a while. I admit I wondered what more I really had to say about the Red Line. I admit others were saying it better. But does that mean I should quit? Well, perhaps. But I haven't quit. Not exactly. I've just been taking an extended break. I'm back with some new insight (or at least a warning to my fellow T riders).

Today's tale began a few months back. Heading home after another exhilirating day at the office, I swiped my T pass at South Station and noticed that instead of the usual message--valid through March 31--the fare box displayed something along the lines of "$10.90 left on card."

Hmmm, I thought. What's up with that? In addition to purchasing a monthly bus/subway pass, I keep some cash on my card, in order to pay my fare on the rare occasions when I take the more costly express bus. I didn't want to waste time on my way home from work that night, so I didn't stop to inquire, but on my way in the next day, I approached a T representative at South Station. He seemed reluctant at first to get involved, but then he came out from behind his desk, swiped his card at the pass purchase machine, then swiped my card. He was able to see all activity on my card and confirm my story. Although he couldn't reimburse me, he did give me a one-ride pass. I accepted this as a reasonable solution, figuring I can give that to my spouse or a friend to use.

I didn't think much of it until it happened a second time, at Charles/MGH. This time, the nice T person had a form that needed to be filled out, which she graciously did for me, in painstaking detail and with utmost care (three trains came and went while I waited for her to turn over the form to me for completion and mailing). I sent in the form, and the T mailed me yet another single-ride pass.

This week I had another such experience at Davis. The T person on duty really didn't want to get involved, and never heard of any form. He did swipe his supervisor card along with my own card, and verified what had happened, but he merely let me through the gate, he offered nothing in the way of resolution other than "you have to go to Downtown Crossing" to get your money back.

I'm beginning to wonder if this is perhaps a secret ploy by the T to generate additional revenue. The fare boxes are like those voting machines in Florida--subject to malfunction and not to be trusted.

Riders beware.

Happy Birthday to the Red Line

There has been so much going on lately with the MBTA, what with fare increases and service cuts, public meetings, unfair debt burdens--it's just been all too much for the Sphinx to keep up with, which explains why I haven't written in a while.

I couldn't let today pass however (although technically it has, being as it's after midnight), without saying Happy 100th birthday to the Red Line.

What runs daily at 100 years old? T’s Red Line

Happy New Year?

So it is 2012, and the best commuter news of this winter so far is it hasn’t snowed. Well, not since the Halloween storm, anyway, which technically was in the fall. I worked the week between Christmas and New Year’s, and it was amazing the difference in the traffic and Red Line ridership. I trimmed from 10 to 15 minutes off my commute every day, and that actually started before Christmas, as I think many people take time off to shop or begin their holiday travel. One day last week I zipped in on Route 2 from Lexington and didn’t tap the breaks until I got to Route 16. I remember thinking, “this is how I thought it would be.”

Ah yes, last year at this time the hell of commuting had yet to commence. I was still full of the excitement of starting a new job. I told my boss when she hired me that I didn’t want to give leave where I was to just do the same thing someplace else. Sadly, that seems to be what is happening. I gave up 11 years of seniority, only to be hitting my head against the same wall. I commiserated with a friend on the phone yesterday who assured me that it’s not me--it is the nature of the working life today.

I have started to measure out my work life in increments: this week only four days. Next week will be a full week, but then it's MLK day, and another four-day week. Then I'm out of town for a few days, come back, short week, next thing you know it will be Groundhog Day and, worst-case scenario, only six more weeks of winter.

One good thing that will happen in 2012: Now that one of my major projects is past phase I, I will be working at home one day per week. I didn’t feel I could do it while supervising interns, but the last intern leaves this Thursday. I will miss her, but I won’t miss riding the Red Line on Thursdays.

Giving Thanks

It's been awhile since I've written, partly because I've been busy and partly because I realized there was just too much going on with the T for me to stay on top of it all. Let it suffice to say there will be a "gap" in my reportage, but c'est la vie.

Life has been a little different for me lately. Two weeks ago I traveled to Seattle on business. No, I didn't try the Seattle public transit system (I had only one free day, wherein I rode the Monorail, a shameless tourist). My point is, that week I commuted only two days. I flew on a Wednesday and came back Saturday, limiting my time on the Red Line to a manageable dose.

Then last week was Thanksgiving, so I only worked three days. I was indeed thankful to once again cut the commuting time short--and it was positively joyous to have four days off in a row and not have to travel anywhere.

In the coming weeks, with the holidays upon us, I should be taking some additional time off. It makes a huge difference; nothing is as bad if you don't have to do it every day.

In the meantime, on the Red Line, they have started busing people between Alewife and Harvard on the weekends. I feel sorry for anyone who works weekends and has to deal with it. I ran into my former colleague, who lives on the street where I park. She tried taking the T from Davis the first weekend of the busing, and it took her an hour and a half to get to Park Street.

The T is spending the weekends doing some fairly critical maintenance work. (I read one Boston Globe article wherein one of the authors of a report on the system said he wouldn't ride the T past Harvard because the threat of derailment was so real).

Of course, in typical T fashion, they really didn't give people much notice. Why should they? Ridership is booming, according to recent reports. If a few people give up in disgust, good riddance!