Sights and Sounds of the Season

Week Ending 12/7/07:

Good tidings and Season's Greetings to all you busy shoppers, anxious commuters and Holiday travelers. The city is aglow with Christmas spirit. Just this week I saw the rats on an "E" train platform shredding up some ribbon and the wrapping paper from an errant present dropped by an absent-minded railer. They love Hickory Farms!

Mrs. Twain and I came into the city to see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center and catch a Holiday concert at the Metropolitan Museum of Art performed by Chanticleer. This group presents 12 male voices that are unsurpassed in their range and clarity, and when they blend, it's like butta. If you wonder what the angels singing in Heaven will be like, here it is!

My fellow railers have been, for the most part, pretty congenial and accommodating these recent days. I've seen a number of random acts of kindness this week: giving up seats so families can sit together, helping load and store luggage, and a few more smiles representing a temporary willingness to be tolerant for annoying behavior. I guess we can call it "good will toward people"! One exception does come to mind, however, and I'm the guilty party. I was on my way to NY, when a young woman, probably late 20's, joined me in Philadelphia. She wanted to sit on the inside seat next to the window, which was fine by me. She's a female Gilbert Gottfried. I'll call her Gilda. Gilda Gottfried. Squinty eyes, and squirming in her seat. She couldn't sit still and no sooner did she take her seat, she began to complain. She's wedged into the seat to begin with, and while balancing a grande latte in her left hand, she began to try and remove her coat, maneuvering around a large computer bag on her lap, and an oversized handbag at her feet. To her credit, she succeeded without spilling a drop. She also brought with her a consistent sniffle and throat-clearing exercise every, oh say, minute and a half, without exception. It was one of those bad coke sniffles with bronchitis-like sounds that draws the congestion deep into her lungs. Did I mention that adding to the disturbance was the constant whining about the train conditions. "It's too hot in here. It's very hot. Why is it so hot in here" and on and on she went. Also "It's very tight in here. There's not much room in these seats. Why is it so tight in here?" Needless to say, she made an impression on me. Since I didn't have a good answer for her, I simply took out a tablet and began writing my Christmas list. Nothing puts me in a better mood, and before I knew it, we had arrived in Gotham.

Fare Weathered Friends

Week Ending 11/16/07:

We are always hearing about the terrible budget condition that Amtrak finds itself facing. Hostile non-railers in Congress want to trim more of the federal subsidy (leave it to Washington to bite the hand that feeds it, i.e., commuters getting to work in order to feed the FICA-monster) and make it more of a burden on us, over-taxed working poor! And while were at it, lets throw on a bigger helping of AMT to boot-- which makes me boot! Sorry, I digress. The Amtrak planners demonstrated their lack of Econ 101 when they boosted the cost of monthly rail passes. Mine was raised by 64% over a 15-month period. Their published explanation was that monthly ticket holders were receiving too large a discount over the regular round-tripper and that raising the fares was fairer. Huh? They also stated that this increase in ticket-toll would help make up some of the revenue shortfall. Prices were raised even after a consultant's report was released that stated that the increased monthly rail passes would, at best, be revenue-neutral. The additional squeezing of the faithfully departing, would be countered by the lost ridership of those who squealed "Enough" and left the rail system altogether. So far, no official information on this impact, only my personal observations of lighter loads and some of the former regulars who are now MIA.

Fortunately, Amtrak is trying some market-friendly alternatives to help keep the lights on and the conductor's pensions funded: advertising. Not spending more money on advertising, but selling ads (hey, if it works for Google). The ads I'm talking about are actually more traditional than cyber. Think rolling billboard. Starting this week, Acela Express from D.C. running to Boston will be wrapped in advertisements for an upcoming History Channel Special, hosted by Tom Brokow. The subject is "1968" and we can expect to see the giant images of Richard Nixon, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King and Bob Dylan flash before our eyes. It should be particularly evident to our Delaware neighbors, since Amtrak rails parallels I-95 and makes the trains easily visible. As long as someone is willing to pay for the space, I'm sure there will be plenty more to come. I'd like to suggest two additional sources of free-market revenue for Amtrak: the Casino Car and "Acelerated", the work-out car. The rail casino could have one side for slots and the other side for blackjack. Create a partnership with a Native American tribe (I think Amtrak means "rolling in chips" in the Algonquin tongue) and give Donald Trump a management stake (picture The Donald plastered all over the outside of the car) and violla! Budget crisis solved in 120 days! My second solution caters to the time-conscious exerciser. What better way to chew up some miles during your commute and slip in a workout as well. The car could be equipped with steppers and ellipticals and maybe a compact weight station or two. Each user would be limited to twenty minutes or a half hour and equipment would be unlocked via credit card. Memberships could be sold and injury waivers would be signed as well. That should do it. Examples of the market at work and no need for escalating federal handouts or immediate in-your-pocket fare increases. As the Brits (who know a thing or two about trains) would say, brilliant!

Sour Gropes

Saturday 11/10/07:

As crowded as Monday mornings appear, or as pushy a sold-out, night-before Holiday escape from Penn Station becomes, none of Amtrak's schedule can come close to the JR (Japan Railway) in Tokyo. Apparently, one of the unpleasant bi-products of this ant farm-like transit system is a bizarre propensity for male commuters to grope female railers. As if armpit-in-your nostril straphangers wasn't uncomfortable enough, throw in some unwanted bumping,grinding and grabbing to the mix for a real nightmare commute! According to recent reports, Tokyo is facing an epidemic of men who can't keep their hands to themselves. In a related survey, 64% of Tokyo women in their 20's and 30's reported that they have been groped on trains or subways.

One response created to offer some relief has been the creation of the "women only" car, a coach on the train available to female riders. Another has been the development of a free download for cell phones offered by game-maker Takahashi that will flash a bold series of questions. The application flashes increasingly threatening messages in bold print on the phone's screen to show the offender. These include "Did you just grope me?" It follows up with " Did you know groping is a crime?" and "Should we head to the police?" It has become the 2nd most popular download in Tokyo and 7th overall for the company. And while many young women are too embarrassed to take action, other are not. According to their most recent statistics, Tokyo Metropolitan Police reported 1,853 people were arrested in 2005 for groping passengers on trains in Tokyo. So how is one of these purvy gropers suppose to get his kicks? Well, leave it to Japanese ingenuity! How about the "Train Cafe", a real train car that provides a simulated train ride and where groping is allowed! This "escape" is provided just minutes from Tokyo's Ikebukuro station. The cost of a membership is $42 and each "ride" is $30. Along with servings of tea for $25, the 20-minute faux-commute departs every hour and serves up young women for the rider's groping pleasure! In addition to "company girls" who are dressed in school-girl outfits or aprons, other "normal" girls who hang out at the cafe after work, can jump on board and join in! Apparently, many members use this activity as a precursor for getting a date, going to dinner, and many report, a steady relationship that has led to marriage! This really brings new meaning to the commuters "daily grind."

Gravy Train

Week Ending 11/8/07:

Fall has arrived and what better time to think of my three favorite "f" words: family, food and friends than the weeks leading up to the Holidays. My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving and I had an early glimpse this week of times to come. Not that I'm looking forward to extra-packed trains filled with visitors to the City or travelers going home for the Holidays. One gentlemen, riding from Philadelphia to Washington, decided to get a jump on the season and brought almost a complete Thanksgiving meal with him on board. He was probably around 60, dressed in normal business attire, and average by all accounts. He had a large shopping bag which he sat on the seat next to him. Out of the bag comes a whole roaster chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry dressing and yes, pumpkin pie for dessert! And yes, he did eat the whole thing. I'm always amazed at the volume of exotic foods that passengers bring with them. Usually it's brought with its own unique aromas of spices depicting far away lands, and usually the aroma is pretty putrid! But I have to admit, the guy and his chicken really caught everyone's attention.

Loud Talkers

Week ending 9/15/07:

"Do you hear yourself?" What use to be the question that moms would ask, I now claim as mine. People on the train continue to hold every imaginable type of cell phone conversation while on board. It doesn't matter how sensitive: business merger, legal, love-lorn and just plain-old angry. Don't they know that others are listening? Rather, can't help but listen because they are talking so loudly! Remember the close-talker from Seinfeld? Jerry should have covered the loud-talker. People can't get it through their head that they don't have to shout when using their cell phone. There was a recent story released about an actual disconnect that occurs between our ears and our mouths when using a device shaped like a cell phone. Apparently, some people really can't distinguish auditory currents, which creates a feedback response that makes the person raise their voice. In any event, too many railers on the railes, prompting the always annoying "can you hear me?" Of course they can hear you, everyone on this train can hear you! A guy this week (who's sitting three rows behind me) is talking to a friend about his recent trip to India. I swear it sounded like he's sitting on my shoulder! No such thing as intimacy, discretion or propriety. Just lay it out there for the world to hear. Scold a spouse, berate a child, humiliate an employee, brag about a conquest or threaten legal action with a business associate. Not that these devil-may-care attitudes are the exclusive purview of the aggressive tyrant. Loud talkers can also include those seeking forgiveness: a plea for leniency over a credit-problem, begging for attention from an apparently not-so-interested former paramour, or a rationalization of an infidelity are all part of the shared dialogue to which I've witnessed. Go ahead, keep on talking. Minutes are free after 7:00PM!

Sounds of Silence

Week Ending 9/01/07:

When does silence make noise? When riding in the "quiet car." Of course, it's not really silence that's the standard, but rather a "library-like environment, no cell phones, no loud talking and no extended conversations." Most railers who seek the solitude of this rolling retreat (myself included) have the unrealistic expectation that we can take our seat and drift off to napville or focus on our reading assignment in quiet bliss. The irony of these misappropriated thoughts is that sound, no matter how reduced, still seems amplified when made in a relatively silent space. I guess that's why Amtrak has named it the "quiet car" and not the "silent car." Violators of the standing rules can be easily identified, admonished and if necessary, reported to the conductor. Most of the conductors do a pretty good job with enforcement of the policy. More difficult to police are the noisemakers who fall outside the protocol. They don't talk or use their phones, but disturb the peace, nonetheless. Snoring rolls like thunder out of some guys (sorry ladies, percentage-wise, you're still not equal in this department). Computer keyboards on some laptops, when left in the caffeine-fueled nimble digits of the typing-gifted, can sound like a flamenco performance. Tearing a newspaper, persistent smokers- hack, sorting through jumbo purses, the nerve shattering velcro-rip on some briefcases and even the squeaky seats that rattle as we roll adds to the disturbance. I guess expectations just have to be tempered to accommodate this reality. That, or the purchase of a noise-cancelling headset is the ticket.

Flipped Out

Week ending 8/18/07:

Shoes make the man. And the woman. The problem at this time of year, however, is they are hard to find. Not people, shoes! There seems to be more feet and less shoe! You know its summer because everywhere you look, you encounter the ubiquitous flip flop. Anyone old enough to know the term "gumshoe" now has a new context. These contemporary versions would have little luck sneaking up on anyone, not with the constant "flip flop" sound that betrays their every move.

The train "floppers" are even more annoying. They slow down the processional of trying to board or exit the train, always requiring someone having to stop to adjust a errant flop that didn't flip. With toes exposed, it's easier for loungers to put their feet up and relax. Just what the next rider wants, summertime feet all over the seat! I do get to witness a variety of toe exposure. Red toes, pink, purple, blue, green, gold and even black painted piggies. Not that I'm particularly interested, but it does create a temporary diversion to try and match a personality type to a person's toe color choice. And that wretched sound, it's maddening, like urban cicadas that chirp a rubberized million-mom march.

The worst by far are man-toes, whether possessed by genetically-cursed females or their toe-bearing brothers. Particularly offensive are the business suit men who feel compelled to complete their wall street look with flip-flops! The train does make announcements that "shoes must be worn at all times as you move about the coach". This is for the protection of the shoeless, claims the conductor. No doubt!I can only imagine these bear-footers wail once their toes were run over by one of the oversize tuba cases that double as a carry-on for some riders.

Social Insecurity

Week ending 5/19/07:

As we chew up miles of track on the daily commute, I sometimes wonder "how in the world does The Department of Homeland Security keep tabs on this labyrinth of rail lines, both freight and commuter, that make up our nation's rail system?" I guess you know the answer. Let's face it, the so-called "security check" conducted on Amtrak is a joke. No screenings of passengers, no screening of luggage or packages (they don't even enforce the baggage size limitation). Even the announced "random ID check" is so random that it just about never occurs! Not that asking for a picture ID 1/2 hour or more AFTER the train leaves the station was ever any big deterrent or safeguard. These concerns were brought into focus for me this week on the evening trip back to Baltimore. There was a young man, mid-twenties or so, dressed in clothing that identified him as Muslim. He was accompanied by two young woman of similar age and dressed in long berkas. What created the alarm was their conversation in what sounded like Arabic, the young man praying, and his videotaping of several chemical plants in Delaware (these were the only things he taped during the trip). Several passengers were very uneasy with this routine, so they went and reported his actions to the conductor (Amtrak does advertise "if you see something, say something") as part of their security alert. The conductor acted appropriately and asked for their ID, which they produced in the form of passports. When we arrived at Wilmington, he alerted a cop who was patrolling the platform. The train was delayed for about 30 minutes while the cop went through whatever protocol was in place (he did remove the three from the train to continue questioning them). After that time, they were allowed back on the train to continue to Baltimore. The conductor (who I have come to know as a result of my regular railing on his train) shared with me that the guy's name came up on a "watch list" that the cop called in, but that his name was very common, similar to "John Smith", so there was no way of knowing whether he was just an unlucky innocent, or a world terrorist. The conductor said the cop had called ahead to see if they could get any additional information regarding their identity. Needless to say, that was not real comforting, but several of us decided to keep an eye peeled for trouble(like that was some real protection). Anyway, when we arrived in Baltimore, sure enough, these three people were greeted by some cops and two FBI agents. I continued on my way, so I don't know the outcome of their discussion. Anyway, I hope you get my point. If this was really a bad guy, maybe his research efforts were cut short and a planned attack was averted. Maybe he was only one of a number of similar events that has gone unreported or undiscovered. The commuter and freight systems (zinc chloride, phosphoric acid, choline gas, petroleum distillates, etc.) are one big nightmare of a potential HAZMAT disaster. One investigative reporter recently wrote of his escapades through the Northeast corridors' rail system when he demonstrated security breakdowns as he climbed HAZMAT trains and locomotives in various rail yards, videotaping derailing levers or peeking into signal boxes that control rail traffic, and never being stopped or questioned by workers who observed his actions! Yikes! It's only through the grace of God that we are spared! We need prayers, vigilance and a renewed call on public officials to make our rail system a priority security issue!

Wait Loss Clinic

Week ending 5/12/07:

Nothing is more maddening than the inefficiency of the Amtrak ticket counter. Baltimore may be the worst, although NY may be a close runner-up! It never ceases to amaze me. Here's the scenario: arrive within 15 minutes of your anticipated departure and it will be a crap shoot, maybe you'll make it maybe you won't. Not because things were too hectic or too crowded, but just because the "reservation agents" didn't feel like doing much at that particular point in time. The reason they call them "reservation agents" is because they reserve the right to serve you! This can occur when there's only one or two people in line! These agents don't have a clue regarding customer service, or if they do, they simply don't care. Their process goes something like this: help one passenger get a ticket, then leave your station, walk around from counter to counter (at least three), go into the back room, come back, fumble with some stuff under the counter (purse, lunch bag, etc.). Now decide to move the bags, boxes, brochures or whatever, while the increasingly fidgety soon-to-miss-the-next-train passenger nervously keeps looking at his/her watch! Finally the agent is back at their computer terminal and the coup-de-grace occurs: they just stare into the terminal for about 5 minutes. What they are looking for I don't have a clue. Maybe the train schedule, maybe last night's lottery numbers or maybe the next vacation they are planning using their rapid reward miles from Amtrak. I don't know, but what I do know, is all of this happens while an otherwise needy passenger watches the minutes tick by, and you then hear over the loudspeaker that your train is boarding! Then and only then do you see that God-send from heaven: the lit up "Next" sign with he arrow pointing toward the appropriate counter. Then it's a mad scramble to see if you can make it. Unfortunately, the usual outcome is a race to he stairs that lead to the platform, only to see the doors slam shut and the train begins to pull away from the station as you cry out "No, wait!" And whoa unto those that cry out in protest to the reservation agent. Not only do they walk SLOWER and create more delays, but they remember you next time! You can be sure you have made their hit list and that ticket you need to re-write will all of a sudden, not be available. It will be sold-out! This routine could almost be forgiven if there were not several occasions where the agent stares out at the one or two people in line, and still decides to ignore them. The agent usually expresses no interest or remorse that their lack of attention may be a material factor in creating a bottleneck that keeps an otherwise important business transaction from happening. That short window of time that can mean the difference between making a meeting that closes the deal that day, or missing the opportunity and deferring to reach an agreement, maybe indefinitely, and maybe not at all! How much commerce is at stake? Such power! Such a loss!

Deaf Becomes You

Week ending 4/27/07:

"What? I can't hear you. What did you say?" Get ready, because that will be the attempted conversation of the future. Unfortunately, a generation of deafness is being created right before our eyes. Truly a "Night of the Living Deaf." What can we point to as the catalyst? The ubiquitous iPod, turned up so loud that others don't need those little ear buds (other than maybe to try and block out the noise pollution created by the thumping beat or profane rap lyrics.) The music can be heard throughout a 4 or 5 seat radius on the train. Females seem to be more attached, and thus, more susceptible. These "dec-i-belles" must really love their tunes, demonstrated by the pump-up-the-volume tendencies. I can only imagine what it must sound like to the masochist torturing their ears. None of them seem to mind however. They keep toe-tapping and head-bobbing away, keeping the beat while their eardrums are blown out like the rear car speakers in a '91 Honda. All of this means the rest of us should be investing in the cocular implant business. The specialists relegated to treating these conditions will have to change their specialty to "iEars, nose and throat."

Lovers and Other Strangers

Week Ending 3/24/07:
"I love you." "Luv you." "Love you too." With all this love in the world, one wonders how we have so much conflict. Of course, maybe folks really don't love everyone, but only those who make their cell phone address book. That's right, I'm talking about the almost universally accepted and expected protocol for ending a phone call. It's particularly evident when someone on the train makes or takes a call, which unfortunately, is almost always for some railers. What's more, we have become a nation of verbal exhibitionists, with no need or desire for privacy, just take that "verbal leak" anyplace we feel like it. The train offers little shelter to filter or shield our conversations anyway, whether intimate or not. Of course, no matter what the context or subject of the main conversation, always close with you know what. It has become epidemic. Wall Street types, hip-hop types, college kids, 20-somethings, 30-somethings, even sixty-somethings are caught in this cultural "cupidity." While we know virtually nothing about the person sitting next to us during our morning or evening commute, we should at least take some comfort in hearing their expression of affection for someone other than themselves. Of course, one can ponder whether these same mysterious creatures only slip the "L" word out there first, with the desire and need to hear someone acknowledge that they are the object of another's ardour. "Je t'aime, mon cherie."

De-Training

Week ending 3/16/07:
Who knew there is such an art as "de-training"? Now, I'm not talking about riding the "D" train uptown (similar to the "A" train). Nor am I goofing on Herve Villechaize's immortal "De plane, boss, de plane" signature announcement from Fantasy Island. I'm talking about the conductor's announcements over the intercom system as we approach the next scheduled stop. The voice over the speaker dutifully instructs passengers to "get ready to de-train". That means we are to gather our bags and personal items from the overhead storage areas and be careful as we step from the train to the platform at the station, since there is a gap between the platform and train. This has to be accomplished in relative quick order, since some of the stops (Baltimore) are for only a two-minute respite and its easy to be trapped on board by packages, bags, strollers and other less-nimble trainees, so you have to hustle. These alerts are valuable guidance in this age of litigation, when personal injury is the result of too hot coffee, or cigarettes that force us to smoke. Lord knows what a jury would find for some real damages from, say, oh I don't know, maybe, ah, being cut in half by slipping in between the rails and the haven of the platform. It's a challenging art that requires honing through alertness, agility, co-ordination and moxie. Sensing just the right moment to bust a move: grab your coat, briefcase, shopping bags, newspapers, water bottle and any other remaining refuse, maneuver around other passengers who are trying to make it to the restrooms that reside close to the exit doors, or to the cafe car; but not too soon, or you'll be subject to the knee buckling, hyper-extending pre-stop jerk that lurches the train forward and can send the unprepared hurtling head-over-teacups. In any case, it's an interesting term. It's a made-up term that seems to qualify for the other d-lists we improvise and then find their way into a dictionary: de-ice, de-brief, de-glaze, and the ever popular, de-tox. Does it qualify that, as a former athlete, my lack of physical activity is now, yet another interpretation of "de-training"?

The Mask of Snorro

Week ending 3/09/07:
"The fox so cunning and free,
Snorro, who makes his mark with a ZZZZZZ". "ZZZZZ's" as in snoring. This guy saws some lumber! He's one of our regulars on the morning shuttle. One thing he does enjoy is a good nap. He jumps on in Wilmington and hunkers down pretty quickly. He's a mid 50's white guy. Looks Greek to me. He wraps himself up in his overcoat (just like a big blinky), pulls out his inflatable faux zebra-fur neck pillow, and slips on his black sleeping mask. Within minutes, he's off to la-la land and the fireworks begin. Anyone who sleeps with a snorer knows what I'm talking about. A steady nasal snort and then, as if he's falling, an extended blast, which I would think would wake him up (it's loud enough to wake the dead), but no such luck with Snorro. I'm not sure if natural body sounds qualify as a violation of the "quiet zone" extended to the quiet car.

Some other morning regulars: The Biker, he's a middle-aged sort of out-of-shape guy that wears his Harley garb on a daily basis. He doesn't really look like a biker otherwise, and I'm not sure if he really rides a hog, but his outfit is always accompanied by high black leather boots (like the motorcycle cops wear) which make his jeans look like jodphers. I don't know about you, but I like to see bikers that look like they are out of central casting for a professional wrestling gig. Also on board is Mr. Blackwell, a meticulously-dressed, 70 year-old that looks like he's Orville Reddenbacher if Orville was an Orvis catalog model. Next, Mr. No-Socks, he's a 40-something Wall Street-type that wears a suit, and for some reason, feels compelled to put his socks on at the train station, rather than, say, when he gets dressed in the morning. Why, I don't know. But in summer and winter, he comes, bear-ankled and ready to expose his toes for show. Next is Nona The Hatchet Lady. Nona as in "no cellphones" and "no talking". She relishes in admonishing those who violate the quiet car rules. Not that I disagree in maintaining the quiet sanctuary, but it's her zeal for jumping into the fray that is so interesting. When she hears someone, she's out of that seat like a shot and in their face. She's a 40-something overweight white woman, who pulls her jet black hair up into a Dream of Jeannie high-knotted ponytail. Don't rub her the wrong way!

Trains Fat

3/01/07:

In December, New York City's Board of Health unanimously approved an ordinance that prohibits NYC restaurants from serving cooked food in oil containing trans fat. My response: what about the trains? Does the elegant cafe car cuisine get a pass, or must it comply as well? Maybe there's some interstate commerce exemption, or maybe it only applies to the trains when they roll through any of the five boroughs? Maybe it doesn't apply at all? However, maybe it should! Any catalyst to improve the menu selections will provide welcomed relief. Now I must admit, I enjoy a jumbo all beef kosher hot dog, an artery-clogging processed jumbo cheeseburger, or a personal sized pepperoni pizza (with enough grease and oil to meet with my Audi's manufacturers' suggested two-year lubricant levels) as much as anyone. All of the above to be chased with a cold Heineken or two. And for the first, oh, 50 or 60 times you order, they are pretty tasty, but at this point in my continuing commuter saga, by the 500 or so round tripper, it becomes a little too much of a "good" thing! Almost, like, the thought of it makes me want to hurl. Not that the faire is limited to the three above-mentioned entrees. We also can select from the ever popular Sierra Chicken sandwich (don't ask), the turkey sub, spicy chicken wings, and the, dare I mention, tuna salad surprise! Additionally, I would be doing a disservice if I didn't mention the chicken Caesar salad (in support of the produce industry, we love PMA). Hopefully, this new response regarding trans fats will make its way to the Amtrak culinary kings, the ones who decide which company receives the food service contract and what should be included on the nightly menu. Think about it, trans fats are formed when liquid oils are made into solid fats by adding hydrogen in a process called hydrogenation. "Trains fatties" are formed when liquid carbs are supplemented with 50+ fat gram sandwiches in a process called inebriation.

Quiet Pirates

Week ending 2/23/07:

Ah, the sounds of silence! Where are they when you need them. Nothing spoils a relaxing or productive rail ride than the loud talkers. Where is the mute in commute? These "quiet pirates" make it almost impossible to concentrate on finishing a work project, reading the paper or catching a quick nap. It's not regular conversation to which I'm referring. It's the bar room loud, happy hour scene that's annoying in this setting. The content of their conversations are bad enough (total nonsense for the most part), but the volume speaks volumes. My latest example this week was a gang of three, mid-thirty somethings on their way home from work. They were sitting in one of the quad seating areas (two rows facing each other) that creates a cozy little "den of inebriaty". These "three weird sisters" chortled and gaffawed over their calderon of Chardonnay. Every incident described by any one of them, average day events for us all, were enough to send these three into convulsions. "My Thanedom for a muzzle." "It's not the quiet car," I reminded myself, but in any case, there should be some common courtesy extended beyond the one tranquil-car capacity.

My second annoying example this week is a semi-regular from the morning jog. This guy is a "three-pete" (Monday,Wednesday,Friday) rider. He appears sane enough, an older dude from the Eisenhower administration era. He joins us in Wilmington, on his way to Gotham, and usually grabs a seat in the quiet car. He's well-dressed, almost natty, but not quite. He doesn't make any fuss until the far side of Trenton. Then he starts. I call him "Jack". "Jack the Ripper". He begins talking to himself (it's supposed to be your silent voice in your head, but it's not). He also has meticulously folded various sections of his newspaper, and that's when it really begins, the maddening RIPPING, RIPPING, RIPPING! He tears long strips of the paper, one slow pull at a time. Over and over and over and over! Sort of like nails on the chalk board. He neatly folds each strip and places them in the seat back magazine net. I've actually read of this obsessive habit. Some ad people have tracked it as a positive thing for helping folks identify bargains, tearing them out of the paper, and passing them along to others, thus giving an ad much broader exposure. At first I thought this was Jack's thing, but upon further observation, Not! He looks like it's a purposeful process, with specific targets in mind, but than he just folds them up and places them in the seat pocket. In any case, it's an annoying distraction, particularly magnified in an otherwise library-like quiet car. I'm hoping he or his newspaper subscription expires before too long (only kidding, sort of, no really, I mean it).

American Idle

2/18/07:

Time is a luxury to be enjoyed, however part of that enjoyment could be realized by doing something more than brain-numbing phone chatter. Now, let's define "idle": the act of doing nothing or no work. While I may receive some jeers from those Bertrand Russell's In Praise of Idleness fans, clearly, a pet peeve of mine are the trainees who can't sit for five minutes without calling one of their peeps to check in. Now I'm not one of these over-achieving, gotta-be-productive-every-second fanatics (I do love a necessary nap), but there's gotta be something more fulfilling than the phone party every mile of the journey! It doesn't have to be work, reading something (People or Us Weekly qualify, I think), writing, solving a Su Doku, or watching a movie seems more enjoyable. At least, it's more enjoyable for any of us who are forced to listen.

Bag Ladies

Week ending 2/16/07:

This weeks' ice and snow proved a daunting challenge that forced the faithful to endure a schedule of delayed or cancelled trains. All appointments be damned! We'll get there when we arrive! The weather, coupled with the President's Day extended weekend, brought the trains that were running, to maximum capacity. Which brings me to my theme today: why do riders ignore the baggage restrictions when getting on the train? Answer: because they can. No one seems to enforce any of the so-called regulations. Every other woman rider appeared to be hauling a double-steamer sized wheeled shin crusher (what occurs when one of these monsters smash the blameless, as they try to squeeze down the aisle and your leg happens to get in the way). The "official" baggage limit is 50 lbs. and these crates have to go 90 to a buck twenty! I know because I volunteer to help move these bags out of the way when they wind up creating a traffic jam in the aisles that prohibits others from getting to a seat. They are hazard-inducing on a couple of levels: they hog up way too much space in the car; they create unnecessary congestion; and they are an accident waiting to happen, as everyone pushes to get down an escalator to board the train. With the crowds and these bag ladies dragging coffin-sized "carry-ons", totally unaware that other passengers are an inch away from doing a header over the bag, it's "rider beware"! The fact that no Amtrak official ever intervenes on excess baggage brings up another topic related to security on the trains in general. We'll save that one for another time.

Rail Thin

Week of 2/9/07:

Fashion Week was filling up the pages of the Post and Daily News. This made for some interesting looking new riders on the train and waiting to board at Penn Station. I use the term "board" ironically, since by the look of these waifs, they haven't used but a fraction of their "room and board" allowance! This reminds me of my favorite model joke: a model walks into a party and announces "I'm starving, I'm so hungry I could eat half a sandwich." I'm talking willowy! One young cat walker was particularly memorable. She was probably 6'3'' in fashionable flats. Wild, long, curled jet black hair that looked like Cher from her battleship video. She had to be all of a size "0" (can you be a minus 1?) in her black jeans with legs the circumference of my arms. She was carrying all the model accessories (water bottle, huge over sized shoulder bag that cost more than my first car, latest issue of Us magazine), and a look that was sort of Angelina Jolie if she was in Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. She remained glued to her cell phone. Other fashionistas were a little less striking, but just as narrow of hip. The up side is you can fit 4 or 5 of them in a row that is designed to hold two "normal" adults. I find the whole model size controversy magnified with people like Tyra Banks appearing all over the news to show her new, plumper self and the predictable demise of Anna Nicole Smith, the pathetic train wreck (no pun intended) and Trim Spa spokesmodel.

Ice Ice Baby

Week ending 2/9/07:

"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock", except this "cradle" was rocking into a strong headwind! The trains were all behind schedule this week. The single digit mornings that didn't break freezing marks all day make stuff run poorly on the train. Switches don't switch, signals don't signal and catenary electrical overhead systems don't stay connected. Monday's normal 5.5 hour round tripper was 7.5 hours! The rest of the week was not as bad, but still one slow ride. Thinking of lullabies reminds me that this was also one tough ride for the bambinos on board. Maybe it was the cold, but those little love nuggets were wailing up a storm. Just what the gang wants to hear after a long day at the salt mine. Mothers tried to keep those puppies pacified, but demonstrated little success. One more reason to dream of Spring!

Girls Just Want to Have Phone

Week ending 1/12/07:

Ah, the cell phone. One of the eight wonders of the modern world. I recognize the role that this ubiquitous device plays in society around the globe. However, as we get back to work and look forward to a happy, healthy and productive 2007, can the simple task of riding a train for a modest period of time without a phone (or bluetooth headset) attached to one's face be too much to ask? And I ask, "what is so freaking important that people can't get by without staying connected to Mom, Mindy, Moesha, Margarita, Muffy, Michelle, Miguel and Maxwell?" It beats me, and sorry ladies, but XX chromosomes seem to have this "need to speed dial" embedded in their DNA. It's particularly evident when Amtraking. Young girls, College girls, Ivy-educated career girls, housewife girls, and matronly grandmother girls all share the gene. Not all women, I grant you are guilty, and there are some XX-men that exhibit the behavior, but the vast majority of the ever-chatty train phonies are of the female persuasion. I could maybe understand if the content of these "can't wait" conversations was an engagement (the marrying kind), a death, a big promotion, a big firing, or a baby, but come on!!! Must we all be exposed to "yeah, I'm on the train, it's pretty hot/cold today, I saw Mimi the other day, what are you doing tonight, etc., etc., etc. " This exchange doesn't happen once, but is repeated to multiple entries in their address book and it's only 7:00 A.M. Give me a freakin' break! A typical morning on the 170 to NY finds me always amazed at why many other riders cannot just take advantage of the time to themselves: read a book, read a newspaper, write a letter, pay some bills, take a nap, or prepare a report are just a few ways to enjoy the ride. The quiet car provides some sanctuary, but if you do need to keep your phone on in the event of a business or family emergency, then it would be nice to not have to sit through an exhibition of Ms. Chatty Cathy burning through her monthly minutes. I believe that to be left alone with your thoughts is a scary place for some people to visit. As a result, a constant distraction is necessary and meaningless banter is a great way for them to pass the time!

Rude & Crude

Week Ending 1/26/07:

It's a packed train about 6:30 PM. We're headed south from NY to D.C. A guy was seated three rows in front of me and had commanded both seats. He decided to get comfortable. Off went his shoes, on goes his computer with some Rush Hour type of movie blazing. He pulled out dinner and sets up across both seats and tray tables. He's in a suit, apparently going home after either a day in the pit or a job interview. He's a white guy of average build and appeared to be in his mid-to-late-twenties. The entitlement generation! He doesn't fit any stereotypes of someone who may start trouble, like a biker, gang member or old man who's soup has to be sent back at the diner. He believed his train ticket entitled him to provide himself whatever entertainment or distraction he pleased. Other riders be damned! He had his movie on full volume, every mind-numbing explosion, car chase and inane exchange of dialogue to be "enjoyed" within a ten-row radius. After about ten minutes, an Asian guy sitting across the aisle who was trying to get some work done, peers over at the perp with a thinly-veiled look of disdain. Almost instantly, the jerk with his movie becomes Ratso Rizzo and his "I'm walking here" rant. "What are you looking at", he snarled. "Don't be giving me any weird looks, pal". "I have a ticket and I'm enjoying my dinner", he announced to anyone within earshot. "If you don't like it, there's a quiet car in the back. Go have a seat there." Well there goes the neighborhood! Several of my equally-disturbed railers decided we were going to let this guy know the rules. Each of us jumped up, and "politely" informed him that he needed to have a headset in order to be listening to a movie, and if another passenger can hear the story, then the volume is too loud. The deaf and the dumb didn't want any part of this group intervention, but was basically giving us all the finger by continuing his movie. He challenged any of us to go report him to the conductor if we had a problem, and several of us said "no problem with that". A business-type guy got up and went to find the conductor. The perp sat there smugly and running his mouth about how he's had a long day, and no one was going to stop him from relaxing on his way home. The conductor arrived and laid out the rules, just as we had described them. The perp began to argue with the conductor. To his credit, the conductor kept his cool. Many of the conductors are pretty soft spoken and meek, a few are not. This one was in charge! After a few minutes of listening and trying to reason with our perp, the conductor laid it straight out: turn it off or he'd be thrown off the train at the next stop. The inconsiderate bastard decided he better chill, but was just burning over his public humiliation. The guy decided to act out his aggression by talking to himself in a loud voice and calling his friends on his cell phone to communicate his ordeal. He talked on his cellphone and put it on speakerphone the whole way to Philly, where he referred to everyone around him as m.f'ers and assholes. He didn't want to actually become physical, and I didn't want an assault charge waiting for me, so I decided to chalk it up to the spirit of diverse community that develops in the public square. He got off the train in Philly and we returned to Pleasantville!

Mr. Impropriety

Week ending 2/2/07:
Why do some people believe total strangers are interested in their life story? Some guy got on in Newark on his way to D.C. He was sitting across the aisle. No sooner did he sit down, but he felt compelled to start his rap. His name was Ned. He was coming back from a business meeting. Going to D.C. to fly to Chicago, his home. He couldn't wait to get home to see his new girlfriend (the guy is probably mid 50's, wearing a suit). He's going through a divorce, but his soon-to-be ex is a gem! He has a great relationship with her. He just knows they'll remain best friends! Yeah right! He travels all the time for business. And, oh, by the way, do I mind holding his seat while he goes to the cafe car, 'cause he needs a drink? Before I can answer, he's off. Back in 10 with two vodkas. Boy, I'm glad that his cocktails really got him to open up. On and on with way too much information, and never once having it cross his mind that (a) it's really inappropriate to spill your guts to total strangers; and (b) who gives a shit; and (c) other people are busy with more important stuff to do and unless your condemned to a nursing home with nothing but time, than that's the only way someone may be able to listen to this dribble. Another trip to the bar and more personal confidental. Finally I had to turn my light off and act like I've crashed. As I peek out of one eye I see and then hear him lean over the seat in front of him "Hi. My name is Ned, I'm on my way to D.C........"