If an invitation to leave town materializes, why not accept?

Thursday, December 4, 2008
6:24 pm In an angry place

Okay, ladies and gentleman: it's venting time. I HATE THE T. With the burning passion of a million suns. I'm not exaggerating. Every single time I ride that thing I end up feeling annoyed or pissed off or violated.

Let's take today, for example. I left the Improper at 5:30 pm, my usual time, and walked to the Arlington T stop, which was crowded. This is to be expected at this time in the evening, so I was unfazed. A B train was there letting people on as I walked down the stairs, but it was so packed on I didn't bother trying. I stood by the wall quietly and waited for the next train. Another B train rolled up not long after. It too was packed. People were pressed up against the doors and windows. I rolled my eyes and decided to wait for the next one. Eventually, another one comes along. Packed.

Now, I am not a shy person. If I thought I had a shot at getting on any one of those trains, you can rest assured I would have knocked over anyone in my path to get there. But there simply wasn't any room on any of these trains. And after an eight hour day of staring at a computer screen in a windowless room these trains were testing my patience.

Finally, B train number four rolls up. There was no room, again, but I decided to try anyway. I found a lovely spot in the conductor's booth. I was seriously on top of the guy, but at least I was on the freaking train. As the train made it's way down the green line, people slowly started to get off, allowing me to move further into the train and off of the conductor's lap. But now I was among "the people." "The people" are all of the people on the T that I hate. Now, to be fair, I probably hate them because I consider the T the bane of my existence, but I hate them nonetheless.

First, there's smug sitting guy. God, I hate that guy. He's the guy who got on the T in like, Haymarket when the T was empty, and snagged a seat. Now he sits there, glancing up at all the miserable people who are gripping the handle bars as the T rocks back and forth, and he smiles. The guy smiles. And it's this condescending, asshole smile because well, he has a seat, and in the hierarchy of the T passenger kingdom, he's the freaking king. So he just sits there, doing his pretentious crossword puzzle, and, every so often, smiles smugly.

Then, there are the starers. I hate them too. I realize the T ride is a boring one and I'm probably the most attractive girl you've seen in your life, but I am not a way for you to pass the time. You had better hope this T stays crowded because if I get close enough to you I'm going to gauge your eyes out. Stop staring at me.

And finally, there are the people who smell. You may think this choice not to bathe is a personal one, but it's NOT. If you can't drag your lazy ass into the shower for yourself, do it for all of the people who are forced to be around you. I'm going to start carrying Febreze with me and spraying it in the faces of smelly T passengers.

So, THEN we're at BU East, still several stops from mine, and there's the dreaded announcement: "This train is going express to Brighton Avenue." I wanted to scream, "You've got to be *&%$!#% kidding me!" but instead I surpressed it and only let out an audible groan. Smug sitting guy responded by looking up and giving me a sympathetic smile. I moved to give him a not-so-sympathetic gesture, but I was carried away by the crowd of people who needed to get off the T because it was going express. WHAT IS THE POINT OF GOING EXPRESS? Why do YOU, Mister T Conductor, suddenly get to decide that you are going to skip a quarter of the stops on your line??? I paid my $1.60 just like everyone else! I am entitled to my FULL ride next to smug sitting guy and staring guy and smelly guy!

My life is so unfair.

Tara