the joys of public transportation

Yesterday I hear about an electrical problem on Metro North.  This heavily traveled route will inconvenience commuters for weeks.  According to a Con Ed spokesperson, the type of repairs needed “typically take two to three weeks.”  Commuters are stranded.  Frustrated.  Miserable.  I am happy not to be one of them.

This morning I leave my house around eight, on my way to class number 6 (of 20).   I take the crosstown bus to 79^th Street and switch to the subway. At the subway, I can’t find the Metrocard I just used.  I’ll have to pay again if I can’t find it.  The woman in the booth has the air of one with attitude.  I know this before any words are spoken.  I ask her if she can just let me through.  I understand she doesn’t have to. She says no (or course) but offers instead an obvious suggestion. “Check your pockets; maybe you’ll find your Metrocard there.” I hate when people do this.  Offer up a no-value solution.

So I buy a monthly pass for $112.  I’m using the subway a lot to get to class and back.  Why does the monthly card look exactly like all the other Metrocards? Shouldn’t the head of Metrocard Marketing (assuming such a position exists) institute a new design to differentiate a monthly from a single-use card?

Twice, while waiting for the subway, people rush by me so close that my tote is dislodged from its rightful place on my shoulder.  No apologies from either person.

On the subway, a 20-something woman is watching a TV show on her smartphone, volume up high. Has it not occurred to her that no one else wants to listen to what only she is watching?

A man on the subway is taking up two seats while others stand.  He is not particularly big, but his wide-leg stance says, “Don’t even think about asking me to move.”

If I ever win the lottery, I’d first buy an apartment, and then get a driver.  In the meantime, the forever meantime, I should just be happy I live in a city where public transportation is accessible. I just wish I were the only one using it.