As a commuter student, I ride the train into Boston everyday from Brookline. On a good day it takes me 30-35 minutes to get from my house to Park Street. On a bad day it can take over an hour. The Sawyer Building, where all my classes are, is about a three to five minute walk from Park Street.
The great thing about riding the train is that there is always a story you have to tell from it. Stories about interesting characters, about eccentric T drivers, or even about delays can provide much entertainment.
Mondays and Wednesday are not so bad travelling to and from Suffolk because my schedule is on the off-hours of the regular 9-5 workday. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays I have to be on campus from 9:00am to 5:30 pm. This is literally the worst time to be on the train. Obviously, because it's rush hour. Commonly people think of rush hour as honking horns, irritated drivers and bumper-to-bumper traffic. Rush hour on the T includes people yelling, irritated passengers and squished-like-sardines travel. (That sentence did not achieve quite the level of parallel strucutre I wanted it to.) Anyway, passengers are pushed into every crevice of the train car as people try to squeeze in as many bodies that will fit. It sounds awful, and it can be, but I've gotten used to it so it does not even bother me anymore.
About once a week the disgruntled passengers on the platform will yell into the opening doors of an already packed train "Move into the train," or "Ah, come on look at all that room in there," or "This is rididculous!" These comments always make me smile. What would you like for us to do? Where would you like us to go? The best time was when this poor college student was standing with people surrounding her on all sides and this older woman screamed at her, "I'm trying to move into the train, but you are standing there like a brick wall!" I had to actively restrain myself from laughing.
Yesterday this cute little boy who was probably four years old, exclaimed to his sister, "Stop squishing me! I got squished against the door and now you're squishing me into mom. I don't want to be squished!"
My favorite is people with backpacks. Their bag is on their back, so they therefore have no idea how much room it takes up. People with briefcases, purses or side bags are fine because at least they can see how much critical room their stuff is occupying. But people with backpacks either do not realize that they are taking up the whole train and crushing other people, or they pretend not to notice. This guy last week was holding onto the overhead rails, leaning his weight back onto his heels and pushing his backpack up against my back in a packed train. Um Hello? Do you not see that you are taking up a ridiculous amount of room stretching out over there? And Hello again! Did you not notice that you are crushing the short Suffolk student behind you?
So if you knew me, you would realize that I am not passive agressive by any means and I do whatever it takes to avoid conflict. But these backpack people on the T are getting on my last nerve. So I pushed right back. Everytime this guy's backpack shoved into the small of my back, I would shove it right back to him with force. He got the point fairly quickly.
I also love the person who talks loudly on their cell phone while they are surrounded by people. We do not want to hear what you are having for dinner tonight nor do we want to know what your plans for the weekend are.
Even though riding the train has given me many strange and irritating stories to share, it also does have rewarding moments. Like watching the two year old stare into the window underground realizing that she can see everyone's reflection. Or like the guy who gives you his seat not because you are pregnant or elderly, but just because he is a gentleman. Or like listening to the hilarious T driver repeat, "Sardines, please. Sardines, please." into the microphone to signal people to move into the train.
I'm sure there will be more adventures to come...
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