Friday’s Crap…

Not a good day on the Fail Road. There are no good days on the Fail Road, but this one was one of the worst in the last month. Let’s start from this morning and work our way to the afternoon.

This morning, I had to take the 7:36, which goes directly to Penn. Not bad, right? Single seat, all the way in…Wrong. I could have taken the 7:17, but I was held up by some gardener’s truck down my block that couldn’t figure out how to make a fucking 3-point turn. I could have turned around, but by the time I got down the block and made a left onto the avenue…I would have been late.

I finally get past the truck when I’m once again stonewalled by the beloved school buses I wrote about the other day. By this time it’s already 7:15 and I know I’m gonna be late. So, I just say “Fuck it…just get to the damn station”.

I get to the station around 7:17. I park in the lot…I wait for a little bit because they don’t open the doors of the train until 7:25 some days. I get to the platform around 7:20…the train is ready, waiting, BEGGING for us to take a seat so it can get on with its only duty in life, to transport us, the riding public. But wait! The doors are closed. The lights on the side of the train are flashing…someone is doing a brake test! Oh shit! I look at the guy next to me, he says “Brake test”….I say…”we’re gonna be late”, he nods. These are probably the same nods exchanged between prisoners against a wall preparing for death by firing squad. Then, we hear an announcement…”The 7:36 to Penn Station stopping at *bla bla bla*…will be operating with fewer cars today, please move to the center of the platform to board”….Fewer cars? We see eight! Let us on!

Finally, we see a Fail Road member, in a hoodie…laughing merrily along the platform. Definitely a crew member, paid by the hour…gotta love those Unions, eh? Someone asks him the obvious, “Is the train cancelled?”…we hear “In a minute!”…Yeah…will we know the train’s status in a minute? Will you answer us in a minute? Do you not give a shit?

Then, the rear two cars get unhooked and are pushed farther down to the end of the track. The remaining six cars are inched up more and go through more “brake tests”. Finally, it’s about 7:
It’s now about 7:30. Still more brake tests. Finally! The doors open! But no explanation as to why the short train.

We get on. We sit there until about 7:42. Are we waiting for any passing trains? What the fuck are we waiting for? No answers, nothing. At least we left.

Since this was a 6 car (6 fucking car) train direct train to Penn, it was crowded by the time we picked up the Westwood passengers. By the time we got to Jamaica, it was like a sardine can. We got to Jamaica late (what else to expect?). We finally arrive at Penn around 8:37 instead of 8:29. No, “sorry we’re late” announcements. I finally arrive at the office around 8:50 (once I negotiated the Pedestrian Spam of 7th Avenue)….

And this was only the morning.

I left on the 4:19, a double-decker (see left). It goes to Port Jeff…change at Jamaica for home. The fun begins at Penn. I see suitcases! Big ones! Rolling ones! Big ones being pulled by small people! Shit! The next thing I know, there’s some Indian woman blathering away on her cellphone and she drags this 1000lb. rolling case into the train. Keep in mind from Penn to Jamaica I usually stand in a vestibule because a) I can’t be bothered to fight for a seat, I’ll leave that to the rest of the idiots, and b) the seats are uncomfortable…I’ve been sitting all day anyway, I’ll stretch my legs. So, this woman parks her rolling case right in the middle of the vestibule. If anyone was coming up the steps or into the train, they would have fallen over this case. Also, the damn thing is blocking me because her goddamn cell phone conversation is so fucking interesting, I am invisible. I look at her as to say, “move the goddamn case, it’s in the way and not in a good spot”…she ignores me. Oh well. She’s still talking on the phone and making funny faces and waving down to the lower level where her kid and husband are sitting. Nice.

Then, more people came on with even bigger bags (and tried to stuff them into the overheads). I wish I had a camera. You fucking morons! Please, please Fail Road, BAN THESE LARGE SUITCASES FROM THE TRAIN OR FORCE PEOPLE WHO BRING THEM ON TO PAY A “PENALTY”. They are dangerous, take up space and have no place on a train. If your case is bigger than you…..YOU NEED TO BRING LESS SHIT AND YOU NEED TO CALL A CAB, IT DOESN’T BELONG ON A FUCKING TRAIN.

We finally get to Jamaica and I change for the train home. It’s supposed to arrive at 5:06…it arrives at 5:13. Late again. No announcement, no apology. This train has been late the last 5 times I have taken it. I take it about once every two weeks. Sometimes less.

Why can’t the Fail Road just get it right? Just once? Just get it right, please?

Thanks Fail Road. And thanks to the assholes who ride it, bring in your furniture next time. Have a great weekend.
My time wasted by the Fail Road this week, 45 minutes….

Unhappy…

If you read this, you must be thinking that I am constantly pissed off. That is not entirely true. At times, I am always pissed off. Most of the time, I just tolerate things. There’s not much I can do. If I did, there would be a long line of victims in my wake.

Sometimes people tell me to be “happy”. I am “happy”. My idea of “happy” is different from most people. For me to be truly happy, everything would have to stop being such a goddamn ordeal. Inconsequential things like driving to the train station, the trip on the train, the idiots I have to deal with on the train, the Lead Footed Pedestrian Spam of 7th Avenue…little things like that. That’s all I ask. Do you jobs, shut up, and get out of my way. Is that too much to ask?

I try not to be too “happy” anyway. If you’re happy for too long, you’re only setting yourself for the inevitable disappointment. It’s better not to expect too much. All you get is shit anyway. Once in a while when things actually make sense and work out in your favor, it’s a nice surprise. But, don’t let that go to your head because someone, somewhere will fuck it all up all over again.

Now, I am “happy”. I’m getting ready to watch a hockey game (it’s a Devils game but it’s better than nothing. The real hockey team in New York, the Rangers, are on tomorrow). And, C.S.I.: New York is on later. How much better can it get? Sure enough, tomorrow morning will be upon us and I’ll have to take out the shovel once again and deal with the garbage the day thrusts upon me.