People I Hate on the T
It was a normal Monday morning by any standards here in Boston. I rushed through the rain down to the train station only to wait for about 10 minutes for the train (T schedules claim rush hour trains arrive every 4 minutes). Once the train "took off" it proceeded to stop in the middle of the tunnel (not at a station) every 50 feet or so and wait for some indescribably long time. You see, when you're rapidly becoming late for work and the train isn't going anywhere, time slows to just about absolute zero (you know, that temperature where all atomic motion ceases). I know I know, temperature isn't used to measure time, but you get the idea. So after an insanely long train ride, I got stuck on the stairs behind some family of overweight tourists and realized it was high time for me to compile a hate-list. If you've ridden on public transit before, I guarantee you'll end up recognizing a few of these. In fact, I'm sure you'll recognize some of these from my own previous rants.
- Insanely Loud High School Students: These kids have never heard the term "quiet" in their lives, I imagine. Thankfully, I've never been on the same car with these ones during the morning commute, but it's probably just as bad in the evening when you're coming home from work with a headache so bad it feels like your brain is gelatinous. Typically, any one conversation that is louder than the screeching of metal on metal that the T trains tend to produce can be drowned out with a simple pair of headphones. Not the case with these little harbingers of doom. I didn't think it was possible for there to be a more annoying sound on the T than the screeching wheels. But "Oh nuh-uh she didn't!" screamed at the top of one's recently-pubescent lungs takes the cake. These kids are universally reviled. Everyone in the train stares at them, silently boring black holes of death into their loud-assed skulls. The Upside: almost to a (wo)man, the kids get off at Central Square, leaving the survivors with a peaceful ride for the next few stops. There is no upside if they don't get off the train.
- The Mystery Fart-Machine: I know I have bitched about this one before, but I really can't stress to you how annoying (and nauseating) it is to smell someone's "shit particles" in an enclosed space. The T should smell like burning plastic (typical), wet dog (rainy day), or nothing. Period. Unfortunately, there are those, like "Mr. Anderson" in The Matrix, who seem to think that certain rules don't apply to them. I just wish there was something they could pump into the air that made it obvious who "sealed the deal." You know, like the "water turning purple" that people warn their kids about in the pool. Whenever some jerk cuts one in the T, you get a big orange cloud erupting from their ass. Okay so the visual isn't very appealing but then you know who did it and you can administer disgusted facial expressions as appropriate.
- Smokers: It's fine if you want to blacken your lungs on your own time and out in the open. I really don't care. However, I do begin to care when I don't have a choice about what I'm breathing (which is why T farts piss me off too). There are certain clever individuals who think they're doing something "badass" and "rebellious" by smoking while waiting for the train. I don't think I've ever seen someone stupid enough to smoke on the train. Oh no wait, yes I have, see thugs below. In any case, these T-smokers haven't yet figured out that smoking no longer makes you look like a cool rebel. You just look like every other schmoe who has a white stick permanently glued between their fingers. Oh, but you're doing it in the station and pissing off everyone around you, that makes you look so unbelievably cool! Perhaps you'll look cooler when someone throws your rebellious ass into the track pit. Go ahead, touch that third rail. The sign says "DANGER - 10 QUINTILLION VOLTS OF INNER-ORGAN-JELLIFYING ELECTRICITY" so that means you've gotta break that rule too!
- Pre-Pubescent Thugs: I've only experienced this once, actually, but that one time was plenty enough for me. Saturday evening T rides, by the way, are typically the most vile rides you will ever take. I mistakenly stepped on the train with my friend into an entire group of pre- and barely-pubescent thugs. They kind of overlap with the Loud High School Student category, but they're far more threatening. As if the cigar smoking wasn't bad enough, there was the 12 year old kid staring at my friend's partially-exposed (it was club-night, after all) boobs and fondling himself. Yes, fondling himself. In her face. I would have killed him, but frankly I didn't really feel like getting my ass kicked by a hoard of 15-year-olds.
- Drunk Funky Guy: For some reason, every time I see this guy he's drunkenly trying to flirt or somehow make weird conversation with some overly-nice asian girl. I don't know what kind of cosmic forces are at work so that it happens like this every time, but I swear it's true. I've mentioned it before, and I will mention it again: there are so many people on the train who pity her and want to help her, but no way in hell does anyone want to upset the natural balance of things and remove her as the buffer. He might make everyone on the T uncomfortable, but at least he's talking to her and not you right? Inevitably, he smells too, and you know what I feel about people who stink on the T. I wish they could install some sort of stink-detectors at the turnstiles. Keep the riffraff out!
- Drunk Guys from Southie: Someone will probably rail me for being classist or something, but there really isn't any sort of class distinction here. All right well I'm making an assumption that they're from Southie, but where the hell else would they be from? These guys are really freaking annoying. They've got the social grace of hyenas, and roughly the same pack mentality. They're going from one bar to another on a Saturday night and they're already loaded. Witness an example: Man with an older-styled hat steps on the train. Drunk Guy from Southie #1 says to other 3 Drunk Guys from Southie "Hey, look everyone, it's Tommy-Lee Jones!" Note, however, that I have never seen Tommy-Lee Jones wear a hat like that. Also note, the guy looked nothing like Tommy-Lee Jones. It helps to be a little educated about your speaking topic, dolt. Then again, what the hell do I know? I'm not a Drunk Guy from Southie.
- Mr./Mrs. Impatient: An everyday commuter just like the rest of us, but this person has to be wherever about 5 minutes ago. Naturally, the train still has 2 or 3 minutes to go before it reaches the station, but Captain Impatient shoves through the train, putting everyone off balance, just so (s)he can be off the train absolutely first. I always get a kick out of seeing this, because inevitably this person will fly off the train like The freaking Flash and end up, every time, behind some dumbass who won't walk up the escalator. Sucker!
- Fugly Couple Making Out: I don't have much to say about this at all. Just don't freakin' do it, all right? It's bad enough that we have to see your ugly pusses occupying the same 5 square foot space. It's an entirely different matter when you decide to share your undying love with the rest of us. Gah! Put some damn clothes on!
- Fat Kid with Crutches: You may think I'm being overly harsh here, but this one truly takes the cake and is actually the inspiration for this list of oozing public transit angst. The fat kid with crutches. What can I say about him? He's about 10, he weighs as much as I do, and he has crutches. He ascends stairs at a rate of one per minute. There are 14,000 stairs you have to climb to get from the Red Line level to the Green Line level. And an elevator. Did you read that right? Yes. ELEVATOR. I give this evolutionary outcast a little slack on the elevator thing only because of his one-brain-cell family (who also, coincidentally, are fat ... and have crutches ... just kidding). You see, it is so painfully obvious that these invertebrates are tourists that you can't really blame them for not seeing the enormous ELEVATOR signs. But back to the point: fat with crutches. You may be a little cute chunk of lard, but that doesn't exempt you from having motor skills. I've seen people ascend stairs faster with crutches than without. Monday morning rush hour is just not a good time to practice your stair-climbing abilities with your sticks of handicappedness. After I milled around on the platform for a good 5 or 10 hours waiting for this kid to climb the stairway to heaven (read: Green Line), I rushed up the stairs with everyone else ... only to end up stuck behind the kid's fatass family, who is aimlessly milling about at the top of the stairs. So it's really not the kid's fault that he's dumber than a rock, uncoordinated, and 40 pounds too heavy. Blame genetics.
Now that there was a rant. You know there are still others I could include in the list, like the girl on the cell phone or the recruiting mormons. Suffice to say, the T is a dangerous, scary, smelly, annoying place. But all in all (oddly) it's better than driving!