Yes, I have a new thing to bitch about. You must all be thrilled. But no one’s making you read this, bucko.
I don’t mind the length of the train ride to and from Lowell at all. I enjoy spacing out and staring at the industrial squalor out the window. Funny, there are no NICE houses along train tracks. Why is that?
But getting the train home in the evening is a bit of an ordeal, because it pits the regular “we don’t run enough trains because we are capricious and terrible” MBTA against the German precision of the Commuter Rail, which is apparently run by another concern that contracts with the MBTA. And they are fined when they are late. I missed a 5:45 train by 2 minutes last night, and that was with a mad dash from the Green Line. I think I hurdled over a twin stroller and kicked a seeing eye dog on my way, but my only reward was the painful squeezing of my still-recovering lungs and the sight of a train pulling away.
Now you’d think allowing 35 minutes to travel 5 stops would be more than enough time to get me to North Station from Arlington street, but not when there are sports fans involved. It aroused my ire still further to see that the same people who insisted on jamming in the doors at each stop so the train could not proceed were even too early to be let into the Fleet Center proper. The escalators weren’t even unlocked, but it was so important to be first in line for an event for which they hold ticketed seats that they could not cede their spot on the subway to someone who might be trying to just go home.
So I sat on a bench in the cold for an hour, under the monitor that details which train is at which track. It became a bit demoralizing because people would rush in and start swearing in my direction when they realized they were too late. Women tend to say “Jeez” or “Dammit!” but men really cut to the chase with “Shit” or “Fuck!”
Oh well. I am all for self-interest, except where it violates my self-interest. I try to remember “other people have lives too,” but surely their lives are not as shiny and valuable as mine! Then again, I don’t mind having the excuse to leave work any earlier. Today: 4:30, unless Alex goes ballistic as promised.