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).
Friday, February 23, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Friday, February 9, 2007
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.
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!
"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!
Sunday, February 4, 2007
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!
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!
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!
Saturday, February 3, 2007
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........"
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........"
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