Commuter Contempt

You fucking kidding me? So under the section “buy online and save…” it says that I will no longer be able to save come 2012. Oh, and this is after a fare increase! Pure hysterical comedy.

Metro North New Haven Line will see an increase in fares coming as soon as the beginning of next year.

• A 5.25% fare increase effective January 2012.
• A 19.25% fare increase over the next seven years.

Basically, my ticket is increasing by almost $20 next year. And almost $70 over the next seven years. There isn’t anything more in line for me to say than go fuck yourself MTA. Suck a giant, syphalitic dick.

Even the sign that once said “BAR CAR” got decimated. For some, that sign is the light at the end of the tunnel after a long day at work. However, like the shitty train it’s attached to, it just is unable to remain in piece after a ride. Same goes for many of the BC participants.

Metro NAWTH has created some unique machines to “degunk” the rails

Good ol’ Metro North couldn’t afford a proper voice over motherfucker, instead had to get Sully from the afternoon peak pack to do the vocals.

Interesting stuff. So, this whole time it’s been rails gettin’ all gunked and shit that slow my shitty commute up. Blast some sand on that shit yo! It’s 2011 and we be livin’ in the technological future bitches.

From what I remember, it was a rather tame bar car. Tame or not, the effect of many disgruntled comuters attempting to wash away their disdain for their jobs was evident. Beer bottles and cups were strewn around, and the fragrence of stale beer was intoxicating. Pass your judgments now, because it doesn’t really fucking matter. Bar Cars are all that is right with commuting.

A picture is worth a thousand words…

If you breathe oxygen, pee from your genitals, and spend every day wondering what will happen to you when you die, then you are 100% human. And if you are human, there is a high probability that during your work commute you want absolutely nothing to do with being in close proximity to another homo sapien.

There’s nothing wrong with you. In fact, if you enjoy other people’s company while you are trying wake-up with your morning cup of Joe and paper, or relax with a cold one on the way home and read your NY Post, you are not only an anomaly, you are an asshole.

So in an effort to not be an asshole myself, I will cut to the chase.

Up until now we have established that you are a living breathing person, or just a really smart monkey with internet access. Or just stuck somewhere in between. So I’m going to toss your simian-ass some nuggets that I have managed to break off during my lengthy history of traveling the New Haven Line of MTA from Connecticut to New York City every work day. It’s a real pleasure of a time, I know. But at least I am passing on some science, and not hoarding that shit like the self-conscious fat lady in Accounting holding onto company secrets. And lots of calories.

Before moving on, please note that there is no secret sauce here, just actions that could improve your successful of human evasion. Similar to hedge fund managers, past performance is no guarantee of future results here. Heed that shit bitch.
There are several paths to take. Most are hairy routes, with jagged rocks and slippery cliffs. And the others are slightly inclined walkways that suck and take forever, but could be worse.  Choose your strategy based on your personal commuter profile.

Let’s set the scene first. On the MTA train, you have only a few choices of seating arrangements. They include:

• 4-seaters,
• 3-seaters,
• 2-seaters,
• solo-spots, and
• standing –room

If you can get a solo-spot, hold on to that motherfucker like Michael on MaCauley’s balls. Sit your ass down, and forget the fact that there are no windows. Because it doesn’t matter since you got yourself a pimp spot, from where you can rock your iPod, laptop, paper, book, or sleep your ass off. They are tough to come by, since there are only two on each car. Consider this the Park Ave, Broardwalk real estate.

4-seater: where 2 seats face 2 seats. Nothing more to say than, don’t. Unless they’re completely empty, then it might be nice to put your feet up. But steer clear at all other times.

3-seater:  Overall, it’s a risky location. A good spot if you are sharing it with only one person who is on the complete opposite end as you. Or it could be great, if you are by your lonesome, and able to stretch out, fluff up a jacket pillow and zonk out. Or it could be just hell, if you get the inside and some asshole sits down in the middle rendering you mostly helpless.  I would recommend rolling the dice based on the human traffic of your train. Never been on this particular train before? Find out if it’s a peak hour ride, or off-peak. If it’s peak (rush hour), you have about a 50/50 shot of not having someone directly next to you. If on an off-peak, that figure could be closer to 90%. Also find out if it’s local or express. Locals take longer and have more people getting on and off, making seat open up and close faster and a lot more often. Express trains are much shorter of a ride, but you are stuck with the results of your seating equation for almost the entirety of your ride.

2-seater: Sit here and you are almost guaranteed to have a seating companion riding with you. It’s not that horrible of a situation, but it’s not ideal. If it’s a peak ride, you could put your odds close to 87% of having someone to your side. Off-peak, you are looking at closer to 50/50.

Standing Room Only: Sucks, and should be avoided at all costs. That is, unless you have a ride that is less than 20 minutes. Chances are you will be standing most of the time, or at least until someone gets up to get off their stop.
Now that you are familiar with the surroundings, you must now familiarize yourself with the types of passengers you will encounter on the train:

• Business folk
• Fat people
• Tourists
• Travelers with baggage
• Ghetto people
• People with kids

There might be more, but for the sake of time, and my intention to commit minimal effort to this, the above list is what you’re getting.

Business people:

 For the most part they’re professionall travelers. They are close to perfect travelers, aside from the shitty few that yam on cellies or  take up too much space and annoy you with their BlackBerry elbows. It would behoove you to not only sit near them, next to them, and learn a thing or two. Shit your mouth, bring something to occupy your time, and then get the fuck off. Commuter Grade = 4.5

Fat People:

 Fatties are wildcards. They are only of value when sitting window-seat in a 3-seater. Why? Because they’re legs and most likely bags, spill all over the place. Making passengers arriving after you weery of sitting in the middle due to a lack of space. But be careful, this could blow up in your face, big-time (pun intended).If some asshole calls bluff and sits in the middle, all that leg spillage will directly impact you, reducing your traveling area by at most, 20%. It’s ties like these that I would say, get up and stand. It just aint worth it to stay there. Or if you got some seriously balls, tell the late arrival that “things just working out. You have to go.” Commuter Grade = 3.7

Tourists:

These idiots will usually take the 4-seater. Let ‘em have it. If you walk on, and see a bunch of “I Love NY” t-shirts sitting there with balloons, go to the next car, or as far away as you can. They will BLAB about their day, and how tired they are, and how much fun they had, and how slow the ride is taking. You just don’t need this aggravation. Steer clear. Commuter Grade = 1

People with Baggage:

Akin to the fat riders, people with bags can be  leveraged for good. But unlike fatties, they sit, normally in the 4-seater. And if they do grab a 3-seater, they’ve more than likely taken up all your overhead space. But if they have some overflow on the seat, that’s a good sign. Other passengers are reticent to ask someone to move their shit. Utilize this. Commuter Grade = 3.9

Ghetto People:

 
They’re loud. Don’t give a fuck. And will go out of their way to ruin your ride. They are a direct descendant of the tourist. They’ll also complain a ton, and arue with the conductor about train fare. When you get the feeling you are in their presence, get away. Commuter Grade = 0.5

People With Kids:

Very rarely do you encounter well behaved kids. And even when you do, it’s just uncomfortable. They take up less space, but can be, and usually are, fucking annoying. Especially if they’re tourists with their family, forget it. Go two cars ahead. And if they’re ghetto tourist kids, take another train. Commuter grade = 1.5.

Conclusion

You are fucked.

All in all, you probably have a better shot of hitting a roulette jackpot than having a flawless train ride home. You just have to take it for what it is, and use people’s annoyances to your benefit. And if you got an MP3 player, just find a comfy seat and crank the tunes. Even though you run the chance of being ‘that douche”, hey, it’s your ride home. No one else’s.

Via Barstool:

Seriously, this is the type of shit I see on the train almost every day. Fucking parents not giving a fuck about their uber annoying offspring.

I sat their once, while a mom let her child beat the metal vent. Over. And Over again. Instead of smacking the child in the head, aka recommended action, she asked her, “Are ya makin’ music honey? HUH? You makin’ some music?!” No, she’s not making music. Just EVERY SINGLE PERSON ON THE TRAIN CRAZY. You twat of a mum.

From a great blog Dealbreaker:

The following entry is by a Dealbreaker reader who shall remain nameless, who counts himself among the contingent making the daily trek between southern Connecticut and New York. In short, it’s the rules that must be abided if you hope to survive the jungle that is the Metro North New Haven commute. Whether you’re a neophyte who just moved out to CT or a resident who just started a new job in Manhattan, someone for whom none of this currently applies but fear it may in your future, or you’ve have been doing this trip for years and have your own tips to add, enjoy.

Just before the turn of the 20th Century, Metro-North Railroad’s New Haven Line carried home its first pack of ambitious, southern Connecticut natives from New York City.

In just over 100 years, this 90-mile stretch of rail has blossomed from a novel idea into a daily constant in the lives of hundreds of thousands of travelers. These people aren’t tourists. They’re longer impressed by the splendor of Grand Central Station’s ceiling astrology. They don’t have time to snap pictures of the giant American flag. And they don’t care if the “Oyster Bar is really good!” These people are men and women, young and old who, day in and day out, brave the true horrors of the New Haven Line so that they can chase the American dream. To those riders I say, “I am one of you. I feel your pain. This guide is written in your honor.”

Phase #1: Making it to your platform

I imagine water boarding to be a lot like walking through Grand Central Station at rush hour. Anticipation of the event is only trumped by the terrifying reality of experiencing it, and your ability to breath deeply (or, sometimes at all) is lost almost immediately. Don’t be fooled by the kind older gentleman with the umbrella who held the door for you at the 42nd street entrance. His gesture may be the last sign of humanity you experience for an hour, or more. Once you’ve entered Grand Central, no one will help you. No one wants you to make it to where you’re going. You’ve begun a grueling and bitter quest for survival. You know your train time and track number. Now, you must get there.

Rule #1: Keep your head up at all times. Even a cursory glance at your watch or a young child’s smiling face could mean your being swallowed by a pack of Nikon-armed, Japanese walking-tour participants.

Rule #2: Never let your eyes wander. That woman may very well have the nicest…shoulders you’ve ever seen, but is ogling her worth veering off course and into a group of chattering college girls whose outstretched, texting hands will ram into your tightening chest and knock you down right before their purple Uggs boots trample your motionless body? No. It’s not.

Rule #3: Fill every open space. Remember when the guys in your office were talking about their fantasy football line-ups this morning…for the better part of an hour? And remember how you couldn’t get anything done because they wouldn’t shut up about how some running back was “hitting all the right holes last night!”? Well, you damned well better remember because now you’re that running back. Any space in the crowd represents a step toward your track, a step toward freedom. Feel bad about stepping between two lovers as they embrace? You can’t. Don’t want to ruin that family’s big city picture with a real New York cop? You must. Feel like you should let by that elder woman with the cane? No time. No one would do these things for you. This is New York City. Always remember that. And let no one stand in your way. 
 
 
Phase #2: Getting on the train

Now that you’ve made it to your track and are walking down the platform, you’ve probably noticed the crowd has thinned. You feel a sudden surge of relief and then you peer into the window of one of the train’s cars. There seems to be someone in every row. “Where did all these people come from?” you think to yourself. “It’s eight o’clock at night on a Friday for Christ’s sake!” Suddenly, your frantic, darting eyes spot an open seat. It’s next to a balding man in a pinstripe suit. He looks at you knowingly for a split second. Then he places his briefcase on the open seat and fires up his Kindle. “That seat must be saved,” you think to yourself. It’s not. He put the briefcase there so you’d think that, but it’s not. Kindle man doesn’t care if you live or die. He is a New Haven Line warrior.

The conductor rings a bell to signal the train’s departure and you’re forced off the platform and into a car. You’re now faced with the most formidable and dreaded challenge of the New Haven Line rider: finding a seat.

Rule #4: Think fast. Very fast. Do you see all those people standing in the vestibule? You know, the ones with the florescent lights exposing their every blemish, the ones with the frowns on their faces and their dead eyes fixed on an advertisement for Thompson Reuters. See them? They’re standing there because they were checking their Blackberries when they should have been scanning the car for a seat.

Once inside the train, you can scope spots you couldn’t see from the platform. But, you have seconds to pinpoint and capitalize on your discovery. Don’t blow this.

Rule #5: “Single; Outside of a two; Window of a triple; never middle; NEVER facing four.” Often times there’s simply no seat to be had. And sometimes, there is a seat to be had but it’s next to someone eating, or snoring, or coughing, or bleeding, or under the age of ten. In these cases, there might as well be no seat at all. Cut your losses. Don’t think of what could have been. Stand. On those occasions when do you have a choice, it’s imperative that you’re informed on where to sit and where not to.

Single: The most desirable spot on a train is the single seat. It’s never next to a window but anyone who gives a shit about a window hasn’t ridden Metro North enough. Windows mean more than one seat in a row. More than one seat in a row means you could end up next to an escaped convict or, worse, someone talking about their budding DJ career on his cell phone. Choose solitude. Always.

Outside of a two: Second to the solo seat is what I call the “outside of a two”, or the aisle seat in a row of two seats. If you get to the two-seat row before the window seat is taken, choosing the aisle spot serves as a deterrent to softhearted passengers who need a seat but “don’t want to make you get up.” If someone does have the gall to make you move (some seasoned New Haven Line warriors are shameless), then at least you have aisle legroom. 

Window of a triple: Your third choice should be the window seat in a triple row. Unlike the two-seated row, the three-seated row has a “midget” aisle seat with no headrest. Unless you can sit up straight for the duration of your trip (and I certainly can’t), you’re choice will be rewarded with a healthy dose of nagging neck pain to go along with the bad Chinese food you’ll probably eat for dinner.

Never middle: If someone asks to sit in the middle of a three seat-row, they’re probably either insane or a devout masochist. Never be that person. Just fucking stand.

NEVER facing four: Worse even then the middle seat is any part of the four seats that face each other at the end of each car. They may look kind of cool and social, but leg room is always an awkward struggle and you usually end up having to listen to some middle-aged traveling salesmen try to impress a moderately attractive blonde grad student who will always get off in Stamford. (“Want a beer? I bought two at the station. Big day today, you know? Hi, I’m Mark by the way. I work for Cisco.”) Again, just stand.
Phase #3: Surviving your ride. You may have found a seat but your trials are not over. Before you make it home, you’ll be tasked with keeping tabs on your ticket, defending your personal space, and staying occupied. Easy right? Wrong. Jesus, have you learned nothing?

Rule #6: Take your ticket out as soon as you sit down. Hear that clicking hole puncher and that chatty banter? It means the conductor is coming…for YOU. He wants your ticket. If you don’t have it, he’ll kick you off at the next stop, or tell you that you need to pay next time, or frown at you. Whatever he does, it won’t matter. The sheer panic you feel when you think you’ve lost your ticket is worse than any punishment these capped Phlegyases, these stewards of railway hell can impose. The disbelieving stares of your fellow passengers won’t help either. “Sure, you don’t have it,” they’ll all be thinking. “Degenerate! Loser! Baby killer!”

Rule #7: Do your best to make sure no one wants to sit next to you. Remember that bald man in the pinstripes? The one that placed the briefcase on the empty seat? The one with the Kindle? Remember how you hated him? Well, now you must become him. You see, that man was a New Haven line warrior, defending his personal space from other human beings. His weapon was a briefcase. He used it to make sure no one sat next to him. Pretending to be asleep, sick, or just plain crazy also works most of the time. Unless, of course, you’re met with another warrior in which case, your bluff will promptly be called with an unabashed “Excuse me, may I sit here?” And you’ll say “yes” even though it kills you.
Rule #8: Have toys. Listening to the conversations of other passengers will slowly drive you insane. If you’re not armed with an array of diversions, you simply won’t make it home alive. Different levels of mindless chatter call for different devices. Two men discussing the Yankee’s roster may only require a game of Brick Breaker or Angry Birds on your Blackberry or iPhone, whereas four Westport-bound UBS interns sucking on 22 oz. Heinekens will probably call for a more serious device; like a portable Jet Engine, perhaps.

Rule #9: Be thankful you’re not driving. The best thing about the New Haven Line trip is the end, the realization that you’ve finished your voyage (hopefully) in one piece. As you step off onto your hometown’s platform and make your way toward relief, you may be discouraged by the fact that you have to do all this again on the next day. You may even begin to dread all the obstacles of confined human interaction that await you. But, as the train pulls away, take a second to consider that, without Metro North, you would have to brave rush hour traffic, $150 parking tickets, and kamikaze cab drivers. Consider that other than having a personal driver, there really is no good way to travel between New York City and Connecticut on a twice-daily basis. And, most of all, have faith in this guide. It will get you through. I promise.

I do this shit twice a day. Although I might disagree on some points, it’s by and large accurate.

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