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!