My Boston T Party

"You love this town / Even if that doesn’t ring true / You’ve been all over it / And it’s been all over you" – U2, "Beautiful Day"

Project 351 is on hold because I no longer have a car. The 100 Movies Project is on hold because I suck at finishing things I start. What I needed was a ridiculously ambitious, but short-term project that wouldn’t drag on for years. And I just recently reread Tunnel Vision by Keith Lowe, a novel about a guy who goes through every London Tube station in a day to win a bet. Want to guess where this is going?

And so that’s why I spent Friday making my way through every stop on the MBTA. From Wonderland to Mattapan to Riverside to Alewife and everything in between. In one day. In a little more than 12 hours, to be exact.

I didn’t have as many adventures as Andy did in the Lowe novel. I did manage to avoid the big delay of the day, which is rare enough on its own. I did catch some kids trying to remember the name of the song about the T, that they remembered was loosely based on the tale of the Flying Dutchman (it would have been epic if they were sitting under a CharlieCard sign at the time). I figured out where exactly Dudley Square is. And I was lucky enough to see Louie the Tricycle Guy out near Heath Street.

The only part of the system I wound up skipping was the SL2 to the waterfront. Because, let’s face it, it’s a bus (though I did the Airport section and the Washington Street Silver Line; nobody’s ever accused me of sparkling consistency). I got a shot of the interior or the exterior or the general vicinity of each stop. Except for one. The first person to figure out which one I missed (and leave your answer in the comments) will get the original copy of my checklist I lugged all over town, autographed by me.

I’ll be posting a fairly detailed map (hand-drawn, of course) once it’s already been revealed where I screwed up.

Tags: Boston, boston t party, mbta, photography, travels

Grrr

As a big loser in today’s “Where Will the MBTA’s Daily Crippling Signal/Switching Problems Occur” derby (Copley!), I’d like to thank the train operator for at least trying to keep us updated, though I will point out that telling us that “MBTA officials are on the scene” is approximately as comforting as being told “a family of badgers is on the scene; we should be moving momentarily”. I love this city so much.

Tags: Boston, mbta

You’re My Home

Every time I get the urge to leave this city (and it does happen, with clockwork regularity, right about this time, when the wind gust enters its 56th straight day), I should read and re-read Joe Keohane’s article about leaving Boston. I’ve read it four times already, and each time, it’s either totally convinced me I have to go, or that I have to stay. There’s no in-between.

When I Got Nothin’ To Say, My Lips Are Sealed

I’ve faced it. There are people writing political stuff better and funnier and more often than I can. Half the time, by the time I hear any news, someone on one of the blogs has already said it better, and the other half it’s in the comments. I’ve lost touch with new music (though if you haven’t, some friends of mine are blogging about new stuff that I’ll probably eventually getting around to listening to, loving, and wondering why I lost touch with new music.

I have an outlet for my sports thoughts (that link should even work now), my Psycho review sits half-written on my hard drive tormenting me, and my daily life continues to be of so little interest even to myself that I don’t dare post anything for the world to see. I watched a few hours of ALF on DVD last night, if that gives you any idea of the whirlwind of activity I’ve been on.

So what’s left? How about bitching about the T? OK, if you insist.

1. Escalators. I can’t stress this enough. Escalators are tools for getting you where you want to go. There is no scenery. There is no enjoyment in riding them. If you’re going to ride them, stay to the right. If you’re going to walk up them like a person who actually has a purpose in the world, go on the left. My new rule: people who stand on the left and are stabbed have no legal recourse. It’s a lot easier to climb over your motionless lump of a carcass once it’s crumpled to the floor, anyway.

2. Standing near the doors. Seriously, this is America. This bus is (probably) not going to plunge into a ravine and leave you only seconds to escape. Move back a little. Also, if you’re sitting on the aisle with an empty seat next to you on a full bus, what I said earlier about stabbings also applies.

3. Backpacks. New rule: the first time your backpack hits me because, in the time you left the house and the time you got on the train, you forgot that you strapped a dishwasher-sized bundle onto yourself, we’ll give it a pass. Each subsequent time I get whacked, I get to take one (1) item from inside the pack. Finders keepers, oblivious douches weepers.

4. Announcements. I don’t care that my eyes and ears are important. I don’t really care (or believe) that the Bruins take the T to the game. And I really, really, really don’t care to hear the computerized voice of what sounds like the late John Fiedler telling me that FastLane transponders are available. I want to hear (a) if a train is delayed, (b) why a train is delayed, in clear terms, and (c) if a train is coming, but here’s the thing. I don’t need to hear that a Blue Line train to Wonderland is coming, because I have eyes and ears. The only place where this feature might be useful, on the Green Line, where it might be helpful to know if the next train is a BC train or a Heath Street train so one can decide if one has time to get in line at the Government Center Dunkie’s kiosk for a cup of hot chocolate or if one needs to be in position to scramble onto the next train, doesn’t have it.

4B. More announcements. What exactly does "this train is being rerouted" mean? Is it suddenly going to turn into a Red Line and head for Quincy? Just say "this train is stopping at Park Street because we can, and because anyone who’s going to Lechmere or North Station needs yet another indignity heaped on them" and have it done with.

5. Temperature. It’s hard to believe, but after only about three more weeks of winter, it will be 88 and humid again. More fans in the underground stations, please. And let’s arrange things so the temperature in the trains and buses can be set by people who are actually in Boston and not, apparently, by a computer which takes the average daily temperature over the last 100 years and turns on the heat/AC accordingly. Conditions on the ground change, folks.

6. Headphones. They’re designed to let you hear the music. Just you. At least, the ones that cost more than $2.99 do. Dig deep, or for God’s sake, at least listen to better music.

7. Phones. I know I’ve lost the war for common decency and civility, but I hope and pray that there’s a circle of Hell Dante never envisioned for people who sit on a bus next to someone who’s clearly reading a book, and call everyone they know to tell them they really don’t feel like going out tonight. Yes, Laura on the 47, I’m addressing you by name because I heard you identify yourself on eight different calls. Also, whoever’s idea it was to wire the tunnels for cell phone access should have their head on a spike on the city walls like they used to do with pirates. Or maybe that’s just me.

Presented Without Comment

From Boston.com.

Presented Without Comment

From Boston.com.

“Let It Ride” – A Revere Vignette

After the parade, I decided to take a roundabout, fairly scenic route home. So I found myself on an MBTA bus in Revere, where this astounding conversation took place.

Our dramatis personae include our two main characters – let’s call them Paul and Louie. You know the type. Friendly, chatty, maybe – and I mean this in the least cruel way possible – a little soft in the head. The kind of guys who will come up to you at the bus stop and make you wish you had headphones on, because they’re too dopey to be interesting to talk to, and too amiable to just tell to screw off.

Our third character is a heavyset guy named Vic. Now this isn’t strictly relevant to the story, but it’s what caught my eye and ear in the first place. Vic had a…well, I hate to throw the word "toupee" around, especially when that word is patently inadequate to describe the marvel of architectural engineering perched atop Vic. Let’s just say he could have strapped a live tabby-cat to his head and it would have been less conspicuous.

Paul and Louie, clearly, are single gentlemen, and the topic of discussion quickly turned to Paul’s reluctance to try Internet dating. Louie was game for the pep talk to end all pep talks. He stressed the smallness of the fees involved, he talked up the diverse and many sites that Paul could avail himself of. Nowhere in this did Louie indicate any personal success with same, but clearly he thought this was the route for Paul to take.

Louie’s patter was almost hypnotic. Every time he reached the crescendo of the point he was making, he’d say "let it ride", and go in to Paul for a fist bump/dap/terrorist hand signal. Paul always was a little slow to respond, but never once left Louie hanging.

Also, after every third sentence (I was keeping track by this point), Louie would punctuate his spiel with a, "Right, Vic?" As in, "We’ve all been there, right, Vic?", or
"You gotta let it ride, right, Vic?!" Vic would always nod or grunt noncommitally, though I can imagine the extracranial pressure he was under would render conversation difficult.

This went on for some time, with Louie extolling the virtues of the Internet to kickstart Paul’s love life. But after a few stops, Vic got off the bus, possibly to avoid having to slit his wrists, and Louie and Paul followed a couple of stops later.

So we may never know how this saga ends. But it’s good to know that Louie and Paul – and maybe Vic – are out there on the prowl, just lettin’ it ride for all us sinners.

Congratulations, E Line Riders

The dozens of you who wouldn’t stand up this morning to let the blind lady have your seat set a record that will be hard to match.

It’s Ice Cream Truck Time Again In Eastie

Which means I am in the market for a portable rocket launcher. I am 100% serious.

ICE CREAM TRUCK: [plays "Turkey in the Straw"]…Hello!!!!!

ME: [aims, fires] Goodbye!

Reminder

If your car needs a little bit of fresh oil, they’re giving it away free today.