Guest post by Very Smash:
I saw this as someone’s Google Talk Status Message:
Tip #42: How to secure a seat on a bus [or train] in NYC. Talk loudly on your phone about your recent trip to Mexico, while coughing and sneezing….
The next day it was edited to say:
Apparently tip #42 doesn’t actually work
I hate homeless people. Uch. They take up space, they smell up that space - as well as all the surrounding space - and are unpleasant debris. The other day on the subway, I encountered one such thing. It was very noticeable: no one was standing near it, despite the fact that the train was packed. My first thought was, “Oh, that’s gross! This is a brand new E train, and now they’re going to have to get a new one already.” Then I turned my attention to the pile itself. There was a mound of dirty clothes, underneath which resembled the shape of a human, with two garbage bags next to it. It was seated but sprawled over at an impossible position, managing to take up three seats. I realized why people were avoiding that part of the train. There were 2 reasons: (1) The smell. (2) It’s rare, but occasionally you can get lucky on the train. If a seated passenger gets off before your exit, you have a mathematical chance at securing that seat. We all knew that homeless guy wasn’t leaving; if he disembarked from the train, he’d be homesick. So nobody in their right mind wanted to stand near a filthy section of 3 seats that was guaranteed to remain taken.
The ride home earlier today was weird. I guess that’s the best way to describe it. Well, it started out innocently enough. The E came right away, it was one of the new trains, and I got a seat. It was a wonderful surprise; the train portion of the commute was actually quite tolerable. But then when I boarded the Q46, the most bizarre thing took place. After the bus filled up with passengers, nothing happened. Nothing at all. We were just waiting there, standing, holding onto the handlebars, expecting to depart. But we didn’t. Finally, I noticed a commotion and saw several people leaving the bus. They seemed to be muttering something about a mechanical problem. Seeing that we weren’t going anywhere, I too exited. That’s when I noticed a peculiar void: the bus driver was nowhere to be seen. Indeed, the driver who was there when we boarded had disappeared. He simply got off the bus without making any announcements. The next problem was the fact that I had already used up my free transfer when I swiped my metrocard getting onto the bus, and there was no one to give me a transfer card. So when getting onto the next bus, I explained the situation to that driver, who appeared to be a long-time bus driver (judging from his apparent advanced age). He was very nice and politely replied “Sure,” but he also was surprised at the story. He said, “Really? Wow. Huh.” This old timer had thought he’d seen it all before. Ha! Until you ride with me, there will always be something you’ve never witnessed.
That was one of the worst commuting experiences of recent memory. The ride back home earlier tonight was an absolute disaster. While waiting for the E train on the 34th Street platform, there was the usual rush-hour infestation of people piling into the station. The problem is that the E wasn’t coming. People kept coming, like a freaking swarm of insects at twilight, but there was no relief. There wasn’t even an E train within sight. Then they announced over the loudspeaker that there was a stalled E, and trains were “running at slower speeds.” The ever-growing crowd became unbearable. I switched to the A (express) track, then back to the local. Eventually I got onto a packed C train (just when I was about to head back for the A) and took it one stop to 42nd Street. From there I could be seen darting past others, weaving and slicing my way through the crowd, through the underpass to Times Square, where I boarded a 7 express train. That train, too, had delays, but at least those were tolerable. Then when we arrived in Flushing and I walked to the Q44 bus stop, I saw that I wasn’t the only one with that brilliant idea. There were far too many people there, and I had to wait for the next bus. If it was good weather, this whole ordeal would have been horrible. But it was raining; the weather [stunk]. I’m still upset about it now, many hours after the nightmare ended. Overall grade: F
Okay, so I bet you’re intrigued by this post’s title. What does the feminist movement have to do with mass transit? Allow me to explain. In America, and much of the Western world, women want to be like men. They want the same jobs as men, they want to play the same professional sports as men, and they want - more than anything - to be viewed as equals. No more of this around-the-house cleaner/cook/all-around-maid. No, sir. The politically correct way of referring to soldiers is “Our brave men and women in uniform.” How many women are there in the military? And how many are in combat positions? Still, it’s “men and women.” Such familiar words as “policeman” and “fireman” are now labeled as misogynistic. For the record, it’s “police officer” and “firefighter.” The last one in particular makes me chuckle. Come on already, does anyone actually believe that women are just as qualified as men to put out fires? Who’d you want to save you from a burning building and carry you to safety - a 6′4″ gorilla of a man, or an idealistic woman? It’s an outrage.
Everything you just read is mysteriously absent on the subway. Somehow, when it comes to getting a seat on the train, the mindset is that a man is supposed to give up his hard-earned seat for a woman. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. If a man sits down and there’s a woman who’s standing, she will give him the look of death. She’ll gaze at him with piercing eyes as if to say, “How dare you not give your seat to me!” And when a man is the closest one to a seat that opens up, there’s usually a woman who darts over from afar to steal it from him. There’s a certain sense of entitlement. As a woman, she deserves to sit. Let the man stand. My question is this: What happened to equality? Aren’t women and men the same in every area? Shouldn’t women be treated exactly like men, in all circumstances? It seems that the answer is no. Feminists promote equality only when it benefits them. However, if they can gain by being different, then they’ll be 1950’s-era housewives.
Some people are incapable of securing employment on the basis of their credentials. However, if they reside in the United States and happen to be from one of the so-called “protected classes,” they need not worry. They’ll land the position while someone more qualified will not. This, my friends, is equality in modern-day America. We are so lucky to live in such a charitable land, where wonderful initiatives such as reverse discrimination prevail over silly, insignificant things like “fairness” and “justness.” This morning on the Q46, I witnessed this first-hand. You know that white line in the front of the bus? I was standing with my foot on it, so the front of my right shoe was about an inch on the other side of the line. The driver – a black woman – turned to me, and said (with some serious attitude), “You gotta get behind that line.” Of course, I complied immediately without saying a word. She seemed noticeably disappointed. She was in the mood for a confrontation, and she tried her utmost to instigate. To her dismay, the white guy didn’t cooperate. Technically, it is against the rule to stand over the white line. And, yes, I suppose that technically I did just that. After all, my toes are indeed part of my feet. But come on already! People like this shouldn’t have jobs. Let them go back to the jungle and swing from trees or something. Ordinary human beings should not have to suffer just because their great-great grandparents picked cotton for some rich white dude in Alabama.
I took a much-needed day off today (Thursday, 2/5), so I didn’t have to deal with the rush-hour commute. However, as I went about my day, I couldn’t help but think about transit.
Well, sort of.
I noticed how the subway is different than every other daily routine, in one very striking way. Here’s a test: What do the bank, the post office, the corner grocery, the cleaners, the barber, the DMV, an amusement park ride and the telephone number for a company’s customer service all have in common? (By the way, this is not a summary of my day, in case you were wondering.) Answer: Everyone is subject to the following rule: First come, first served. Yes, the person who has been waiting the longest gets serviced before everyone else. Anything else would simply be a violation of fairness. People who cut lines are the scum of the earth. You heard it here. You can even quote me on that.
In complete contrast is the New York City subway. When a packed train pulls into a station and a seated passenger gets up and exits, there is a single factor that determines who inherits that hard plastic throne. What is it? Does the passenger who has been standing the longest get it (in accordance with the above rule)? How about someone who, at the previous station, gave his seat to an elderly passenger? Perhaps it is based on who will remain on the train the longest? No, no, and no. It is based, purely and consistently, on luck. The lucky passenger who, at that very moment, happens to be standing in the most strategic position to the vacant seat gets it. It’s not just about proximity. You need to be close to the seat and also have a favorable angle to maneuver into it. This crucial element must not be overlooked. Sometimes you have everything going for you, but the departing passenger walks right at you, causing you to step to the side, which prevents you from pouncing. Come to think of it, there is so much luck involved with getting a seat on the train, I am convinced that if everyone aboard was by nature an unlucky person, they’d all be standing and the seats would remain empty. Even if mathematically there’s room to sit, you still need luck on your side to be able to get a seat. Yeah, that’s what it is. Luck.
Last night, I decided to take the LIRR back to Queens. I hardly ever take the LIRR because it’s expensive: it costs a whopping six dollars each way during rush hour, as opposed to only 2 buck for the subway-bus combo. I have heard that if you ride in the front car on a weeknight during rush hour and exit at Kew Gardens, the ticket collectors rarely come around by then; you can save your ticket for future use. In fact, this happened to me once before. I only took the LIRR yesterday in hopes of getting to ride for free. I said to myself, “I don’t care if I have to stand, I don’t care if there are lots of undesirables on board, I don’t care if it’s overcrowded…I just don’t want to pay.” After all, if I’m going to pay, I might as well go cheap.
For the record, the LIRR is, without a doubt, nicer than the E train, but it’s terribly overrated. Sure, the ride is quicker and smoother, and it’s nice to actually see some fellow white people. But let’s be honest, people, it’s not as convenient. You actually need to know the train schedule ahead of time and plan accordingly. The subway trains, on the other hand, come all the time. Also, the subway lines are fed by numerous local buses, and they’re free with a transfer. To get from Kew Gardens to KGH you need to either hock around with a couple of buses, or drive and try to find parking. (Of course, you can do what I did and get a ride with someone else.)
Back to yesterday’s ride. The train was standing room only, so I didn’t get a seat. No big deal, right? WRONG! The guy came around. I heard that clicker from the distance, and it was an awful feeling, knowing that he was about to take my ticket away forever. The torture was slow and oh, so painful. He advanced through the car row by row, passenger by passenger, helpless victim by helpless victim. There was absolutely nothing I could do. And then, my beautiful, precious little ticket was seized from my own hand. I think that devil even grinned as he snatched it.
Boy, I need to get in shape. Today I spotted the Q46 from a couple of blocks away, and I made a run for it. I must say that I moved very swiftly – I even caught the bus from behind – but “ouch.” Very ouch. It’s a good thing that I got a seat on the bus, because for the next four minutes I was gasping for air. I’m not sure which was worse: the pain associated with not being able to breathe, or the realization that I am severely out of shape. Both are certainly true.
Some people enjoy hearing themselves speak. They like the way their voice sounds. City buses are equipped with a sort of intercom system, where the driver is able to make an announcement over the hand-held phone-shaped loudspeaker. They rarely utilize this system because it’s pointless. Well, today on the Q46, the driver was all over it. After picking us up from the corner of Union and Main, he reached for that piece with an enthusiasm I have rarely seen, and declared, “The time is now 7:31. Queens Boulevard will the next and final stop, transfer available to the E and F trains, and several Queens bus lines.” He put down the phone and I thought that was it. I was wrong. A minute later he picked it up again and announced, “The time is now 7:32. Thank you for riding the MTA. Wishin’ you all a wonderful day, a good and a blessed one.” I think that as a child, this dude had hopes of one day becoming a motivational speaker, or at least a professional voice-over guy. But, alas, life can be cruel sometimes, and his dreams were crushed, forcing him to settle for a position as bus operator. I bet he doesn’t view himself as a bus driver; he probably sees himself as an orator who happens to drive a bus while he preaches.