This morning on the subway, I watched a woman fall asleep in the seat across from me and proceed to spill the coffee she was holding all over herself and her bags.
She used her newspaper to cover the spill on the floor, Big Daddy style.
I was in Park Street Station on Tuesday waiting for the next Red Line train to arrive. It is very common for performers of some sort to be singing, playing music or offering up some other type of performance hoping that those waiting on the same platform will deliver them a small fee for their work.
I had the unique …experience… of listening to a retarded man (or retahdid as we say in Boston) play a flute-like instrument pausing occasionally to speak loudly some slightly incorrect lyrics from Prince‘s When Doves Cry. In fact, I’m pretty sure he only knew about 4 lines and didn’t bother faking the rest. His rendition went something similar to the following:
Maybe you’re more like yo’ daddy…
*mumble mumble*
Maybe you’re more like yo’ mommy…
*mumble mumble*
Dis is what it sound like
when dub craaah…
I had my back to him because I was afraid my laughter would burst in front of him, but everytime he finished that verse I could only picture Cartman’s face while belting out a song. (>_< )
Each time he stopped playing his flute, he would repeat those same lines. The flute sound could be compared to an old man that is missing a few teeth and ends up whistling everytime he pronounces an ‘s’ sound or perhaps a screeching monkey. No, the old man whistling is more accurate. So, imagine that sound elongated with slight interuptions of the guy breathing without taking his mouth off the flute. Somehow the erratic sound was repeated and duplicated perfectly each and everytime he finished singing.
This is what is sounds like when my ears cry.
On the way to work one morning this week, I had the privelidge to be on one of the ‘disabled trains’. For those not aware, its been more and more commonplace lately that a train will just stop running and won’t move, even after a clean restart. These ‘disabled trains’, as they are called, cause great amounts of backup along the Red Line. I was reading my Metro and turned around when the announcement was made we were disabled. All I could see was water below. Thats comforting. We were lucky enough for the train to stop responding as we paused on the Neponset bridge between North Quicy Station and JFK/UMASS Station. After it was finally determined that we were completely disabled, we had to wait for another train to push us the rest of the way to JFK/UMASS. This entire process probably took about 45 minutes to an hour. Once at JFK/UMASS, everyone had to get off the train and cross over to the platform across the tracks. I exchanged amused glances with a very attractive young woman as I exited the train. After we crossed over to the next platform, the ‘empty train’ waiting for us was already full and leaving. I laughed and then got into position for boarding the next one, coincidentally still near the attractive female.
As it turned out, the train behind us that pushed us to the station was forced to empty out as well to push my original train, so now the platform was even more packed than before. Fortunately I was right where the door opened for the next train and got on. Mind you, this train was NOT empty. In fact, there wasn’t much room as it was for more people never mind several hundred more.
The rest of the ride was spent mostly laughing because a girl sitting down next to a little girl was singing every little kid song she could think of to keep the kid engaged. She sang everything from the Tigger song from Winnie the Pooh to the wheels on the bus. She was way more into it than the kid too. Hilarity ensued.
After switching to the green line, it wasn’t so crowded anymore because most people were now delayed by about an hour because of the red line’s disabled train, so they found others ways into the city. I love the subway.
At Uno’s this past Thursday, Max shared a hilarious anecdote with us, that I have in turn, repeated several times since. So, as blogs are what they are, I will tell it once more for all of you to read.
Max has this friend that had to dog sit and care for this dog while the couple who owned it were away. The first or second night she came back from school to check in on the dog. The dog was dead.
At this point I broke out laughing because I thought that was hilarious in an ironic kind of way and I also thought that was the end of the story. I mean, the girl was supposed to care for this dog and before she even got a chance, the dog was dead. But that wasn’t the end of the story!
Not sure what to do, she calls the vet. She tells the vet what happened and he tells her to bring the dog in for an autopsy. Now, she didn’t have a pet carrier or anything normal to put the dog in so she resorted to putting the dog in a duffel bag of some sort. (I’m laughing even harder at this point.)
Not only did she not have something proper to put the dog in, but she also didn’t have a car to take to the vet. She resorted to taking the subway while she carried the bag with the dog in it. (Tears are welling up in my eyes because I’m laughing so hard now.) At some point a man offered to help her with the bag and she acquiesced. He mentioned how heavy the bag was and asked what she had in it. Pausing, not sure what to say, she responded that it contained DJ equipment… the guy bolts with the bag, running off, unbeknownst to him, with a dead dog he thought was DJ equipment.
I nearly fell out of my chair at that. We are still waiting to hear the conclusion because the couple had yet to return and the girl still wasn’t sure what she was going to tell them.
Props to Max for that story.
As I sat on my daily morning commute today on the Red Line, I noticed that 3 of the large posters that normally try to sell us everything from Foxwoods Casino to a college education to learning Swahili, were reversed so that the blank white backing was facing out. Upon two of these posters a statement was written in black marker. The first read, “Enjoy Everything.”, while the second read, “Thank you for your smile.” On the third poster, a facial profile was drawn of Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop with “The Real Folk Blues” written beneath. I was surprised not only by the sheer randomness and disappointment that noone else noticed, but also by the actual quality of the drawn profile.
Times like these make me wish I had spent a little more and gotten a cameraphone.
On Saturday morning, I headed into the city to meet Brendan, Thanh, and Darren. We were heading for the convention in town.
I was listening to some Garbage on the Zen Touch and reading some manga I had picked up from the convention the day before. At the Quincy Adams stop, a man got on with his two sons and sat next to me. The kid next to me was jumping around a bit, but I wasn’t really paying attention and didn’t really bother me. Several stops later, I notice out of the corner of my eye, that the man is laying the kid down on the seat, so that his head is next to my leg and his feet are at his father’s side.
I quickly realized what was going on and really hoped my observation was incorrect. Unfortunately the next this the guy does is take a diaper out his backpack.
Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!
He then proceeded to pull the kid’s pants down and clean him up. I’m trying desperately not to even notice, while I read my book and listen to some music, but I could just make him out saying that he apologized for the smell. It was at that point that the pungent odor hit me like a wall. The smell only got worse as the minutes rolled on during this horrid process. The kid was squirming around so much that he was unintentionally headbutting my thigh.
At this point, I got up and got off the train at the next stop which happened to be Broadway to wait for the next train. Three girls, maybe 13 or 14 years of age, asked me if this was the Braintree train as I stepped off on to the platform. I told them that it wasn’t and that the Braintree train would come on the other side, as would be the Ashmont train. I told them to make sure they got on the Braintree train and not the Ashmont train. I yelled to them as they got on the next train, that they were boarding the Ashmont train and shouldn’t get on, but they weren’t listening and only noticing me shaking my head at them as the doors closed.
Then my train came and off to AnimeBoston I went.
It is fairly commonplace on the subway to have an mp3 player of some sort. Maybe 7 out of every 10 people specifically have some kind of iPod. I sat next to a girl today who was using a regular iPod with large headphones that covered both of ears for better sound. What she probably did not know is that they were projecting her current audio preference on the exterior of the headphones quite loudly.
It didn’t really bother me at all, but I think some of the other passengers weren’t as apathetic to the entirely chinese playlist this girl had selected for all of us to listen.
As I got off the train this evening and headed toward the escalator/stairs, this incredibly short woman was walking in front of me. I thought to myself, “Wow, she’s pretty tall for a midget. Maybe she’s a dwarf. I wonder what the book definition would declare her to be. I wonder if she shops for clothes in the kids sec…Oh My God!! She’s getting on the escalator! Shouldn’t she be holding someone’s hand or something?! Is she allowed to ride that? Where’s the sign showing the line that she has to be taller than to get on there?!?!”
Once I got to the top of the steps, though, some good old A.D.D. kicked in and I was none the wiser. As I headed for the exit, I saw some kid kick open a door with a T official right outside. The T official sarcastically told him to have a nice day and the kid flipped him off 3 inches from his face. “Nice. Real nice.” was the guy’s clever and witty response. Good for him for not letting it get to him. It must suck working for the MBTA.
The imbeciles running the MBTA have announced they intend to raise fares again in the near future, even though they just raised them last january. Not only that but they want to discontinue all suburban bus lines and all late night bus routes. Even the city council is up in arms over this. They claim that raising the fares is the only way to maintain core train services and that they need to cut back or eliminate all other forms or transportation because they are simply operating at a loss.
I really hope this forces someone’s hand and privatizes the T. I think it might be the only way to save itself from its poor management and ineffective effort and maintaining an even level of service, even on the core services. In other words, the MBTA is a mess and someone needs to fix it ASAP.
Ah, the morning ride on the subway. There really are few experiences quite like it.
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