Having fun with the MTA

It's a little sad that it's been so long since I posted at home, my firefox history had no record of blogger.com. That might change.

The MTA threw me a few curveballs today. This afternoon, Mike and I ventured down to the lower east side to go to Tiny's Giant Sandwich shop, as well as Guss' pickles. Though no substantial endevour, it isn't exactly close by and requires a significant train ride to get there.

On the way back to Queens, the N halted between the 49th st and 57th st stations. After sitting for a moment, the conductor came over the PA and announced the following:

"Okay ladies and gentlemen, we've got a good one for you this afternoon. There is a gentleman in the R train ahead of us who is running up and down the train with no pants on. As such, we have to go around the R at five seven while the police remove him. We appreciate your patience, and should be moving shortly."

Mike and I exchanged bemused glances. After a while, the train we were on began to pull ahead, onto the Q track at 57th st. As we did, the conductor yelled out something akin to, "Make way!" I won't claim to understand why, as clearly there was no one in our path, and the people on the train couldn't exactly go anywhere.

Everyone in the train looked over at the other side, hoping to catch a glimpse at the cops dragging out some dude with no pants, but alas, 57th st was empty on the local tracks. You could almost feel the disappointment in the air.

"I guess they got 'im," the conductor said.


Later on, as I was coming home from work, a new set of fun awaited.

The last three games of the night at the League of National Hockey were running on the highlight stations, and none of them were pleasant. I had my choice of an overtime, an overtime into a shootout which lasted seven rounds, or listening to the Phoenix broadcast team.

I'd rather do the shootout that went to seven rounds than listen to Darren Pang punctuate plays with ill timed "OH!" and other such misplaced guttural noises that have no place being fired off by the color man.

But none of that mattered. A few minutes after 3, J___ said, "Hey you can get out of here if you want, of you can stay if you want the overtime..."

I looked up at him and said, "Hey why don't you twist my arm a little more 'eh?" And then the only noise was the sound of my chair spinning as I made a run for the door.

So I waited at the subway station for 15 minutes until an N showed up. I got on, and sat down in my usual rear-facing seat near the conductor in the front middle car. This is right by the door that opens at the top of the stairs at Broadway, and saves me time walking once I get home.

Well, seated behind me were some very loud youths. I'm talking jet engine loud. Like, my headphones are ear plugs with speakers in them, and I could still here these kids talking. I was hoping they would get off at every stop, but alas, they did not.

The train got to Lexington Ave, and as we pulled into the station, there was a huge thud on my window. I was reading a book and looked up to see some drunk asshole had slapped the window as hard as he could.

Thankfully, the train was just getting into the station, so they didn't get into my car, and they couldn't cause me any trouble.

Yeah, life almost works like that.

After leaving Lex, the train headed towards QBP like normal. We came out of the tunnel, and were making our way to the station, when we started to slow down. red signal, I thought.

Then the train braked VERY hard. I figured something bad had happened. Maybe someone had jumped in front of the train, maybe there was something on the tracks. I didn't know.

We sat there for about 4 minutes, and then all of a sudden, an MTA employee comes charging through the car. It's the motorman, making his way to the back of the train and he looks pissed.

That's when I figured it out. Those drunk assholes from Lex pulled the emergency brake. What the hell, I thought.

I forgot, that people are assholes.

After 10 minutes, the motorman comes back up through the car and says, "We should be moving shortly." He was very curt, and I don't blame him.

We got moving and stopped at QBP like normal, then I heard the conductor as we left the station: "Due to our extended stop, this train is now running express to Astoria Bvd. There is an N behind us making all local stops. Again, if you need local service, get out at 39th ave, and take the N behind us."

A few profane words came to mind.

If I had stayed a half hour later at work, I would have gotten paid for it, missed the loud youths, missed the e-brake, and gotten home at the same time.

Instead I get life experiences, and a story to tell the grandkids. Thanks New York!