Counting My Blessings

Today was a lovely spring day in Boston, with mild temperatures and beaming sunshine. I went to the gym in Watertown, which requires an earlier than usual "awake" mode for my person in order to make it to the Davis spot in time to get to work. While exercising, I watched a news story of a T electrician who had fallen in a 30 foot hole between the tracks at the Charles/MGH station. So sleepy was I that it took me a few minutes to make the connection. "They're busing passengers from Kendall to Broadway? Wait a minute--that means me!"

Upon leaving the gym, I heard that the firefighters had, in fact, freed the man, who had suffered severe trauma to his legs. Still, I thought, the Red Line will be a mess. I acted decisively, and drove to Watertown Square to catch the 504 express bus to downtown.

The MBTA express bus is a beautiful thing. I took an express for many a year in my younger days. What worried me was not knowing if I'd find parking. Imagine my joy when I pulled into the Watertown Yard and found it only half full--at close to 8 am!

Not knowing how much the parking cost--or how much money and what denominations I had on me, exactly--I had the foresight to pull my roll of quarters from my stash in the car. My luck was doubled when I found a $5 bill in my wallet, the exact cost of parking. The bus was waiting, and I marched on, T pass in hand.

"It doesn't take that," the driver said.

"It doesn't take it?" My heart sank. As it turns out, the subway/local bus pass is useless on the beautiful, glorious express bus.

I had the money, so I paid. In quarters, much to the disgust of the driver. And the Watertown Yard had my car, so I paid to go back to it tonight. But at least I didn't fall in a hole and break my legs. And I didn't ride the Red Line today.

The Red Line Workout

There are 82 steps in the series of stairs that lead from the train platform to the street at South Station. Climbing them is my morning workout, mainly because I can't get to the escalator, clogged as it is with people still wearing their puffy winter coats well into March. I don't mind the stairs, because I like to keep moving, but I sometimes feel winded at the very top, and I have to wonder, "Am I really out of shape?"

In the morning, waiting for the train at Davis, I try to position myself in an open area where there aren't too many people. This is my strategy for getting a seat. Getting a seat is not guaranteed, even though the train originates only one stop away. I usually stand on a narrow strip of the platform, because fewer people squeeze in there. This puts me toward the middle-rear of the train.

Lately I have noticed, when the train is gliding into Davis, that the first car often has many free seats. One day, I tried to stand toward the front end. It worked pretty well, because I got a seat, and when we got to South Station, I was so far from the escalator that the crowd had cleared by the time I got there. That day, I rode the escalator.  It's striking what can make one happy at 8:16 in the morning.

Every Day Should Be Friday

Okay, so I have not written a blog post for a long, long time. I admit it, my commute to downtown Boston is not all that fascinating. More important, my commute has left me precious little time to do anything other than work, eat, sleep. Work, eat, sleep. Or, to quote a greeting card I got from a friend one time, with a picture of a goldfish in a bowl, "Ate, slept, swam around the bowl. Ate, slept, swam around the bowl. What's new with you?"

Today was Friday. And Friday is the happiest day of the week. The commute is so much easier on a Friday. I pulled out of the driveway at 7:34; got to the parking spot at 7:49; got to Davis Station at 7:54. Train arriving…didn’t run…still made it. Walked up stairs at South Station at 8:16 am.

I believe that calculates to a 42-minute commute, minus the five minutes or so it takes me to walk across the Summer Street bridge to the office. I actually got there about 8:26...less than an hour door to door, my own personal best!

It has been a busy couple of weeks since I last wrote. For the second time in six weeks I got the random search. This time they swabbed my bag with a cotton-like square and put the square into a machine. Checking for explosives, no doubt. Happy to report I was clean. Even happier to report I didn't miss a train because of it!

All of the snow has melted, and getting to the parking spot in north Cambridge (Davis Square vicinity) is much easier than it was a month ago. This week, as I walked to the train, the birdsong was amazing. Who knew there were so many crazy birds in north Cambridge waiting for the time change to happen so they could sing their little hearts out every morning? And what are they thinking, settling in Cambridge, when they could be out in, say, Concord, near Walden Pond or some more bird-friendly place? What kind of bird decides to settle in Cambridge?

Something to research for future.