Packed tighter than an e-bay shipment, our crammed train departed sans air conditioning this morning 17 minutes behind schedule and chugging along at a jerky pace slightly faster than a jog. Now, I have no idea why only one “F” train showed up in a 30 minute time frame – I can only imagine that some unforeseen occurrence caused a bit of a back-up and forced what was obviously the city’s most uncomfortable train to shoulder the heavy burden of transporting bleary-eyed New Yorkers to their Manhattan destinations this fine early-morning rush hour.
As we maneuver ourselves into the cars in Tetris-styled contortions, my vision begins to blur as I find myself covered in a bitter film of sweat, a salty sea of electrolytes flowing forth from my pores. Oh, the minor inconveniences we endure to enjoy the world's greatest mass transit system. Sigh.
To add insult to injury, we hapless straphangers jammed into the grimy walls of the overcrowded cars are forced to stare at the ineffectual claims from the transit authority that they’re working hard to improve subway service!
Just what I want to see as I'm being crushed by disgruntled New Yorkers and their overpowering aromas: a little man in a hard hat shoveling bullshit at me. The New York MTA: Shoveling bullshit for the next hundred years!
|