Come on Ride the Train, and Ride It

Ah, the T. The occasionally convienient, frequently frustrating hot mess of mass transportation, where your experience is guaranteed to be different every time. There is no damn sense to the T. I know it isn'tlikely, but I believe the people who designed Boston's subway system drew their inspiration from the terrorists of urban planning that mapped out downtown streets. Why are all the stops on the Green Line so close together? Not just on the B Line down by BU (that portion of track makes me believe in pure, free floating evil. It's a tunnel of bad karma) but even through downtown.

Half the time it's faster to walk. It's not a very big city, MBTA. We don't need a whole lot of stops just to impress the tourists. They'll figure out how to get lost on their own. At any given hour, there are entire Midwestern families who are going on Day 3 lost in the Public Garden. I've seen it. They can't seem to get out. And then there are the people who get lost on the Freedom Trail. A red line indicating the trail IS LITERALLY PAINTED ON THE SIDEWALK, and yet. But enough hating on tourists, I'm not really addressing their oblivion today.

No, the T-Ettiquette offenders I'm targeting today make up our local population. People who live here, people who write into the letters sections of magazines and newspapers to complain about students who won't remove their gigantic backpacks, high school kids who won't stand up so the pregnant and elderly can sit down, or tourists who open their fold-out maps of the North End -emblazoned with big cartoon cannoli's and a caricature of Paul Revere's head impaled on the steeple of North Church - directly into their faces.

Yes, those people are annoying. But everyone knows that. And I don't think they're the norm - they're just the spokesperson for the group of assholes they represent, and those people need vacations and education as much as the rest of us. You know how sometimes you're visiting a strange city, blending in, trying your hardest not to annoy the people who actually live there, and then you spy another one of your kind - the visting - and they are so freaking conspicuous, you actually feel shame. With their fanny packs and their books of maps and their infuriating habit of stopping directly in the middle of the sidewalk whenever they have a thought...I don't think most tourists are like that, because I'm not. Just like most college students aren't complete d-bags. We only notice the shittiest members of their demographic and judge the whole group. We all do it, sorry.

One thing we don't all do, it seems, is adequately shame local contingencies of asshole T riders into reforming their behaviors. Seriously, Bostonians, what the hell is wrong with you? I have to spell it out? Oh, a list would be more user-friendly and effective? Fine, then, I'll list your problems. And tell you how to fix them. You're welcome. Assholes.

1. Why is your music so fucking loud?
Jesus Christ! When your ipod/discman/zune/other new technology I'm unfamiliar with is louder than your ringtone, we have a problem. Yes, 'we'. We share the problem. Your problem is that you are an inconsiderate turd, and my problem is that you are hosting Inconsiderate Turd-a-Palooza '08 in close proximity to me. Your musical suck-fest is holding me hostage. I can hear every word, man, and I don't happen to dig Linkin Park. Don't you have anything else on there that doesn't crap ass so tremendously?

And hey, InconsiderateOne, how are your ears feeling? How's your hearing during normal day-to-day conversations? Not so good? Are you always unintentionally yelling at people and freaking them out by coming across as the most intense person alive? Are your personal relationships suffering? I think I can help you! Turn...down...the...volume. Also, get some better tunes. Yours are the worst.

2. What level Sex Offender Are You, Anyway?
Listen, creepo - if we're bothing standing on a packed train, holding onto the metal pole for support, don't slide your hand down the pole so it touches mine. Like, don't EVER do that. Especially don't leave your hand all in contact with mine, and then look down at me and smile. Because it makes me think that you're going to drug me, steal all my organs, and then place them in a shrine decorated with my skin and lit by candles made from my body fat.

Nooooo, it doesn't matter how cute you are. The last time this happened to me, the space-violator was completely normal looking, well dressed, attractive. I still got off at the next stop and walked 30 blocks to get where I was going. 2:00 on a damn Tuesday afternoon, I don't need that shit.

3. Are you going to share that paper/sandwich?
Of course people read on the T. And sometimes, they grub. I engage in plenty of the former, and none of the latter, but that's mostly because I am incapable of eating anything without a fair portion ending up covering my lap, my face, or my hair, even when I am eating somewhere completely stationary. That's a personal issue though, and I don't see anything wrong with the gifted among us taking part in a little grindage on the go.
That said, there are plenty of people who are reading or noshing who should not be allowed to do so on the train. If your newspaper must be opened all the way for you to enjoy reading it, then you need to get your own damn seat, or wait until you get where you're going. If you need to extend into my seat, then you need to a) say excuse me, then b) fold your paper back on your side. Same goes for food. If you're able to eat your sub without jabbing me with your elbows, and without spilling tomatoes and mayo all over the car, then snack away, man. However, if your intention is to have a fucking picnic all up in my area, then you are an asshole, and you need to put your shit away. Also, if your food is incredibly pungent, you need to wait till you're in an open-air environment. It may be delicious, but between the homeless guy, the guy who is apparently opposed to showering at the gym, and your panang beef - it's too much.

4. We won't leave without you, I promise
Oh, that heading doesn't refer to you unlucky bastards running towards the T as it closes the doors and makes moves to depart the station. It's not waiting. Bye! You just look silly running! Stop running, already. Goofball. I'm actually talking about the people who CANNOT wait for everyone to get off the train before shoving their way on. What the hell is wrong with you? Is there a seat you like better than all the others? Are you in training for something for which this is an integral activity? Is it so hard to wait until everyone else is off - and JESUS YOU'RE GOING TO STEP ON THAT BABY.

They aren't the only ones guilty of creating congestion havoc. There's also the Door Hoarder. You know - that person who stands in front of the door the entire ride, and when it stops at oh, say, Kenmore on a summer night at 6.30 when about 780 people are trying to exit they REFUSE TO GET OFF TO ALLOW OTHER PEOPLE TO PASS BY. I have seen those people get like, trampled - and they don't care. They just cling to the pole by the door. You crazy freak, you can get out for a second. Say it with me now...we won't leave without you. I promise.

There's more - oh so many more - but I have to go get on the T now. Orange Line!!! You know, the other day, I saw a PSA ad on the Orange Line warning teen hos about the dangerous pimps out there? It broke down all the pimps moves, what they'd say, what they'd buy you...it was the most informative ad I've ever seen. And also, my hands-down favorite, ever. And I've only seen it once. Once! I'm on the T all the damn time! That must be the worst-funded public awareness campaign in history. Pimps got teen hos in this city locked down. They're a well funded group, too - when was the last time you saw a pimp and his teen hos riding the train? Your shitty manners have likely turned them off the whole experience.