I'm a bit late in reporting on this, but two months after the infamous two-hour delay, it happened again, in July. The passengers were remarkably calm and forgiving. The Boston Globe was outraged.
Hundreds stranded below in another T breakdown - The Boston Globe
The guy who runs the T got promoted: Read the Boston Globe story.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Lessons from the Red Line
It's been almost seven months now since I started commuting on the Red Line. What I've learned so far:
- T Alerts or overhead announcements are not to be trusted: A couple of times recently, I received T Alerts warning of delays on the Red Line, only to get to Davis and jump right on a train that zipped into town. The same goes for the announced delays. If you hear one, don't immediately despair, because it might not really affect you. Only your reality counts.
- Your reality often sucks: In May, during my infamous two-hour delay stuck in the tunnel between Porter and Davis, I remember thinking, "Wow, when I get out of here, I'm going to have, like, a few dozen T Alerts about this." In fact, there was none.
- If you can take a break from the Red Line even one day per week, it can save your sanity. This week, I took the 504 one day. Next week, I plan to drive in one day. The following week I plan to work at home one day.
- Beware of the best seat. For me, the best seat is the one in the corner, because you don't have lots of people passing by all the time getting on and off. There is no door there, so it's a little more tranquil. Unfortunately, the Red Line trains have a tendency to sweat, and there is often water dripping on those seats.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Summertime, and the Commuting Is Easy
Is there any sweeter feeling than speeding down the turnpike in the 502 Express bus while your BlackBerry buzzes with T alerts bringing news of delays on the Red Line? Is there any happier morning than when you’ve got a 10 am appointment and you get into town at 9 and have time to sit at the bagel store and sip an iced coffee while watching the world rush by?
That is, essentially, today's report. My work life--and commute--does not get any better. I had a meeting in the Back Bay at 10. I started out quite early at the Watertown gym at about 6:15. Took my time getting ready, and bought an iced coffee on my way out of there, just in case. I never dreamed I'd be in town so early, but that 502 was bookin' it, baby. I was reading an old NYTimes magazine I had in my bag (the Globe delivery was not early enough today, alas), when the BlackBerry started buzzing with the news of those poor fools on the RL.
Of course, it helped that today was a gorgeous New England summer day, with brilliant sunshine and cool breezes. Had it been raining, it would have been a different story altogether, because rain in Boston brings utter gridlock and mayhem in the streets. The bus probably would have been sitting for hours. And the people riding the RL would have been laughing their asses off at the pitiful souls on the "Express" bus.
But I digress. Luck was with me today. And it's all about living in the moment and appreciating the good things in life. Yes, indeed.
The only downside--okay, one of the few downsides--was that, on my way to the office (near South Station), I encountered the strange person I mentioned in a previous post. I've decided she is for sure a woman. With a large backpack. Who shifts around and talks to herself. Who acts, in fact, very much the way I imagine a suicide bomber would act. She was with me at Copley (Green Line), then transferred, as I did, to the Red Line at Park.
But I hardly cared. I let one Green Line train go by, because it was too full, and I saw there was another train coming. Then I helped two ladies from Australia who were trying to get to the MFA. And it always makes you feel better to help someone, just a little bit, right?
That is, essentially, today's report. My work life--and commute--does not get any better. I had a meeting in the Back Bay at 10. I started out quite early at the Watertown gym at about 6:15. Took my time getting ready, and bought an iced coffee on my way out of there, just in case. I never dreamed I'd be in town so early, but that 502 was bookin' it, baby. I was reading an old NYTimes magazine I had in my bag (the Globe delivery was not early enough today, alas), when the BlackBerry started buzzing with the news of those poor fools on the RL.
Of course, it helped that today was a gorgeous New England summer day, with brilliant sunshine and cool breezes. Had it been raining, it would have been a different story altogether, because rain in Boston brings utter gridlock and mayhem in the streets. The bus probably would have been sitting for hours. And the people riding the RL would have been laughing their asses off at the pitiful souls on the "Express" bus.
But I digress. Luck was with me today. And it's all about living in the moment and appreciating the good things in life. Yes, indeed.
The only downside--okay, one of the few downsides--was that, on my way to the office (near South Station), I encountered the strange person I mentioned in a previous post. I've decided she is for sure a woman. With a large backpack. Who shifts around and talks to herself. Who acts, in fact, very much the way I imagine a suicide bomber would act. She was with me at Copley (Green Line), then transferred, as I did, to the Red Line at Park.
But I hardly cared. I let one Green Line train go by, because it was too full, and I saw there was another train coming. Then I helped two ladies from Australia who were trying to get to the MFA. And it always makes you feel better to help someone, just a little bit, right?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Multitasking Nation
A few weeks ago, on my way home from work, I sat across from a young couple who appeared to be on their way to a Red Sox game. They had the hats on and the shirts. The young woman was drinking a Pepsi or a Coke, I don't remember the specific brand of drink. Anyway, the point is, she was so not into her date. I mean, it was obvious, even to a casual observer sitting reading the paper after a long day at the office.
She sat down next to a worker bee kind of guy. He was wearing jeans and a plain shirt, and he had a kind of canvas bag with him--clearly also on his way home after the workday. The girl was looking around, doing everything possible to avoid looking her date in the eye, and she dumped her Coke on this poor schmoe sitting next to her. Yes, he was wearing jeans. It's not like he had on a $500 suit, but still--I felt bad for the guy. She apologized and all, but what could she do? He had wet jeans, and she had an empty can. More Coke would be had at the ballpark, no doubt, and I guess he'd have a washing machine at home. But I remember thinking: Glad she didn't park herself next to me.
This is what I thought of last Thursday morning when, on a fairly crowded T day, a young woman sat next to me with a travel mug (which I assumed contained coffee). Yes, those mugs are sort of "spill proof," but she was not only sipping coffee, she was also fiddling with her ipod and reading a book.
That's when it occurred to me that this is what life has become for the average commuter--or possibly the average worker. Our free time is so precious, our private moments so rare, that we have to squeeze everything in. She was going to make the most of her ride. I, on the other hand, was wearing light-colored pants, and more than once I glanced away from my own newspaper to check the status of the cup.
She sat down next to a worker bee kind of guy. He was wearing jeans and a plain shirt, and he had a kind of canvas bag with him--clearly also on his way home after the workday. The girl was looking around, doing everything possible to avoid looking her date in the eye, and she dumped her Coke on this poor schmoe sitting next to her. Yes, he was wearing jeans. It's not like he had on a $500 suit, but still--I felt bad for the guy. She apologized and all, but what could she do? He had wet jeans, and she had an empty can. More Coke would be had at the ballpark, no doubt, and I guess he'd have a washing machine at home. But I remember thinking: Glad she didn't park herself next to me.
This is what I thought of last Thursday morning when, on a fairly crowded T day, a young woman sat next to me with a travel mug (which I assumed contained coffee). Yes, those mugs are sort of "spill proof," but she was not only sipping coffee, she was also fiddling with her ipod and reading a book.
That's when it occurred to me that this is what life has become for the average commuter--or possibly the average worker. Our free time is so precious, our private moments so rare, that we have to squeeze everything in. She was going to make the most of her ride. I, on the other hand, was wearing light-colored pants, and more than once I glanced away from my own newspaper to check the status of the cup.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
On the Lam from the Red Line
Addictions often begin innocently enough. Your friend has a bit of pot, for example, so you go ahead and try some. The next time it happens, you really can't say no, I mean, they gave it to you. As a gift! You have to do it. By the third time--the third consecutive day--you begin to wonder if you are developing a habit. You make the first attempt to make a change. Maybe you even start hanging with a new crowd.
So it was that my own life of criminal activity began. The first time, it was completely unexpected. I was approaching the gate in South Station, T pass in hand, when there before stood the open gate. It wasn't closing. So I did what any red-blooded commuter would do: I walked through. Without swiping my pass. I felt it was recompense for the two hours I spent stuck in the tunnel in May.
The next morning, at Davis, I sensed the absence of T personnel, who actually do sometimes supervise the morning activity. Oh, they are never there when the monthly pass fails, triggering the rapid-fire honking and the alarming message on the screen: SEE AGENT. But when you don't need them, they are there. Anyway, I happened to notice, after a woman passed through the gate ahead of me, that the message on the screen was "ADMIT THREE." Now, I don't know what that's about, I readily admit. But there surely was only one of her. And the gate was still open, so I passed through.
I think I mentioned in a prior post that I lost my T pass in the middle of June. No, that's not as bad as losing it June 2, but I was stung by the lost money and the need to buy a temporary, pay-as-you-go pass. That second time, I felt I had it coming to me.
That evening, on my way home from work, I was actively looking for my opportunity, like a thief looking for a weak victim. I didn't see any T personnel, and I just walked behind a man who had passed through. I said to myself, this gate is going to close right on me, and it started to, but wouldn't you know, it sensed a body and opened up again. I had my T pass in hand, and I was actually constructing a fiction in my head in case someone stopped me after the fact. I scampered down the stairs to the platform, but now the exhiliration was gone. I felt like a common criminal, jumping the turnstile (as we used to say back in the days of turnstiles).
Although no one was around, I worried that there might be cameras. I saw myself as the Whitey Bulger of the Red Line, a grainy image hunted by authorities. So I scrammed. Today I took the Watertown Express Bus, and was treated to a two-hour commute courtesy of a rain storm and terrible traffic downtown.
So, it's true: All criminals pay in the end, one way or another
So it was that my own life of criminal activity began. The first time, it was completely unexpected. I was approaching the gate in South Station, T pass in hand, when there before stood the open gate. It wasn't closing. So I did what any red-blooded commuter would do: I walked through. Without swiping my pass. I felt it was recompense for the two hours I spent stuck in the tunnel in May.
The next morning, at Davis, I sensed the absence of T personnel, who actually do sometimes supervise the morning activity. Oh, they are never there when the monthly pass fails, triggering the rapid-fire honking and the alarming message on the screen: SEE AGENT. But when you don't need them, they are there. Anyway, I happened to notice, after a woman passed through the gate ahead of me, that the message on the screen was "ADMIT THREE." Now, I don't know what that's about, I readily admit. But there surely was only one of her. And the gate was still open, so I passed through.
I think I mentioned in a prior post that I lost my T pass in the middle of June. No, that's not as bad as losing it June 2, but I was stung by the lost money and the need to buy a temporary, pay-as-you-go pass. That second time, I felt I had it coming to me.
That evening, on my way home from work, I was actively looking for my opportunity, like a thief looking for a weak victim. I didn't see any T personnel, and I just walked behind a man who had passed through. I said to myself, this gate is going to close right on me, and it started to, but wouldn't you know, it sensed a body and opened up again. I had my T pass in hand, and I was actually constructing a fiction in my head in case someone stopped me after the fact. I scampered down the stairs to the platform, but now the exhiliration was gone. I felt like a common criminal, jumping the turnstile (as we used to say back in the days of turnstiles).
Although no one was around, I worried that there might be cameras. I saw myself as the Whitey Bulger of the Red Line, a grainy image hunted by authorities. So I scrammed. Today I took the Watertown Express Bus, and was treated to a two-hour commute courtesy of a rain storm and terrible traffic downtown.
So, it's true: All criminals pay in the end, one way or another
Friday, June 17, 2011
If You See Something, Say What?
The commute has certainly seemed easier since the days have grown longer, the college students have largely fled, and vacation season has kicked in. The weather has pretty well sucked, but that seems to be the pattern of the last decade in Boston (2010 excepted). I have gotten by so far by wearing a slicker and a baseball hat on those blustery, wet walks across the Summer Street bridge.
Today, after I left my car at my parking spot and began my walk to the Davis Square T, I walked right into an encounter with a former colleague who lives on the same street where I park. This is the first time we've actually run into each other, although I saw her at Christmas and mentioned my new situation. I considered hiding behind a bush or returning to my car until I knew she had passed--not because I didn't want to talk to her, but because I didn't want to talk to her all the way to Park Street (which is where I figured she'd get off the train).
As it turned out, when we got to Davis, she took the escalator down, and I said I was going to take the stairs. "Okay," she said. "Have a good day."
So, great, I figured, she wasn't in a chatty mood, either. I boarded the train, which was unusually empty. At Porter, when it began to fill up, an unusual person got on board. She (or he?) was one of those people whose gender is ambiguous. She (I finally decided the person was a woman), had on gender-neutral clothing, some kind of light black jacket and black pants. She had short dark hair, and was carrying an enormous backpack. When she boarded the train, she seemed to be trying to look for a seat. There were still a couple left, so sensing her movement out of the corner of my eye, I assumed she was trying to decide where to sit--or whether to bother, given her heavy burden.
She was holding onto the post across from me, then crossed over to my side. She kept crossing back and forth, turning herself around, looking up and down the car. Then she walked down the length of the car and continued the dance at the other end.
I have to admit, the phrase, "If you see something, say something," did come to mind. What if that gigantic backpack is a bomb and this person is a suicide bomber looking to take down a bunch of Red Line commuters? Should I get off at the next stop and report her? But then I'd be late, whereas if I say nothing, I could be...dead? Worst of all, if she were a bomber, well, that would certainly screw up the rest of the morning commute for my fellow riders!
I thought of my former colleague, who I was pretty sure was seated in the next car over. Perhaps she would be spared. Or, perhaps the terrorist was waiting until the train was on the Longfellow Bridge, and she was hoping to take down the bridge as well.
When I got to work, I reported the incident--to my significant other, who usually receives an e-mail from me shortly after I arrive at my desk. "I've heard there are a lot of nuts who ride the Red Line," he wrote back.
Yes, the imagination runs wild on a Friday morning in summer. As you already know by my being able to write this, she (he?) was no terrorist, just a run-of-the-mill Red Line kook. I made it to work and back safe and sound, with the only tragedy being I seem to have lost my blasted T pass.
So, if you see something, say something. Or, as others say, if you fear something, you'll see something.
Today, after I left my car at my parking spot and began my walk to the Davis Square T, I walked right into an encounter with a former colleague who lives on the same street where I park. This is the first time we've actually run into each other, although I saw her at Christmas and mentioned my new situation. I considered hiding behind a bush or returning to my car until I knew she had passed--not because I didn't want to talk to her, but because I didn't want to talk to her all the way to Park Street (which is where I figured she'd get off the train).
As it turned out, when we got to Davis, she took the escalator down, and I said I was going to take the stairs. "Okay," she said. "Have a good day."
So, great, I figured, she wasn't in a chatty mood, either. I boarded the train, which was unusually empty. At Porter, when it began to fill up, an unusual person got on board. She (or he?) was one of those people whose gender is ambiguous. She (I finally decided the person was a woman), had on gender-neutral clothing, some kind of light black jacket and black pants. She had short dark hair, and was carrying an enormous backpack. When she boarded the train, she seemed to be trying to look for a seat. There were still a couple left, so sensing her movement out of the corner of my eye, I assumed she was trying to decide where to sit--or whether to bother, given her heavy burden.
She was holding onto the post across from me, then crossed over to my side. She kept crossing back and forth, turning herself around, looking up and down the car. Then she walked down the length of the car and continued the dance at the other end.
I thought of my former colleague, who I was pretty sure was seated in the next car over. Perhaps she would be spared. Or, perhaps the terrorist was waiting until the train was on the Longfellow Bridge, and she was hoping to take down the bridge as well.
When I got to work, I reported the incident--to my significant other, who usually receives an e-mail from me shortly after I arrive at my desk. "I've heard there are a lot of nuts who ride the Red Line," he wrote back.
Yes, the imagination runs wild on a Friday morning in summer. As you already know by my being able to write this, she (he?) was no terrorist, just a run-of-the-mill Red Line kook. I made it to work and back safe and sound, with the only tragedy being I seem to have lost my blasted T pass.
So, if you see something, say something. Or, as others say, if you fear something, you'll see something.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Ah, Spring! Time to Shop?
Spring is probably the best season for the Boston commuter. The early light makes it easier to wake up in the morning, the traffic has let up a bit with the college year over, and the crowds on the T seem a bit lighter--perhaps people are already taking vacations? Spring fever days? Calling in sick because of the awful allergy season?
It helps that this week I worked only three days. Monday was a holiday, and Friday was a "comp day" for me (because of my employer's conference the week before, wherein we all worked 14 hour days).
And the T has been in the news. Ridership is up again (although the economy appears to be tanking), and the T has hit upon a new way to make money: Selling tchotches. No, the MBTA does not have the cache of the London Tube, but for some reason they are thinking people will be willing to fork over real money for things like an Orange Line sign or a Blue Line mousepad. Check out the NECN story on this.
I'm not sure this is the salvation that the T's finance director really needs. Though, now that they've caught the counterfeit-T-pass guy, that should help the bottom line. This is the guy who worked for a company that issued T passes. He figured out a workaround to the system and was authorizing bogus passes that people were buying on Craig's List.
Which begs the question: When figuring those April ridership numbers, did they count the bogus rides?
It helps that this week I worked only three days. Monday was a holiday, and Friday was a "comp day" for me (because of my employer's conference the week before, wherein we all worked 14 hour days).
And the T has been in the news. Ridership is up again (although the economy appears to be tanking), and the T has hit upon a new way to make money: Selling tchotches. No, the MBTA does not have the cache of the London Tube, but for some reason they are thinking people will be willing to fork over real money for things like an Orange Line sign or a Blue Line mousepad. Check out the NECN story on this.
I'm not sure this is the salvation that the T's finance director really needs. Though, now that they've caught the counterfeit-T-pass guy, that should help the bottom line. This is the guy who worked for a company that issued T passes. He figured out a workaround to the system and was authorizing bogus passes that people were buying on Craig's List.
Which begs the question: When figuring those April ridership numbers, did they count the bogus rides?
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