The Difference Between a Stunod & an A$$hole

I've been commuting to Framingham for my new job for about three weeks now, and I realized there are three kinds of commuters:

1. Those with Fast Lane transponders
2. Stunods.  (Those who commute everyday, yet for some reason, do not have a Fast Lane transponder.)
3. A$$holes.  (Those who commute everyday, don't have Fast Lane, yet drive in the Fast Lane line until the very last second and then try and cut in the front of the Tickets Only line.)

This morning I was driving behind what I would now classify as a #3, if I had to guess what this lady chooses to do.  The rusty mint green Toyota was going about 50 mph and I was about to signal into the left lane to pass her, when I noticed her flick a lit butt out the window and speed up a bit.  Then after about 30 seconds, her car began to swerve as I noticed both of her hands were off the wheel and up around her head.  This stopped after a minute, but then they were right back up in her hair again and she was swerving. 

At this point I decided I needed to get out from behind this crazy person, and got in the left lane.  As I passed her on the left, I took a quick glance and realized that her hands were off the wheel and she was swerving because she was rolling her hair in giant curlers!  As Mr. Bean demonstrated in the episode where he tries to save time by getting dressed and brushing his teeth in the car on the way to the dentist, multi-tasking while driving is pretty dumb and selfish. 

Thank you to our bus driver!

Today I was the annoying bus passenger with a stroller (car seat attached to it- making it bulkier).  The type of rider the MBTA considered banning.  I had to bring Lexi to daycare on the bus, in her stroller and car seat since we will be taking an Amtrak train later this afternoon to Rhode Island and my mom (who doesn't own a car seat) is picking us up at the station. 

Despite the fact that we took up a lot of space, the driver was exceptionally courteous.  He even got out of his seat to help us on and off and didn't start the bus until he was sure the stroller was secure.  I wish I had thought to see which operator number he was, but since I didn't, a big thank-you to the gentleman driving the Route 7 bus that picked us up at the corner of L and Broadway this morning around 7:35ish!

Once at South Station, we were able to enjoy the stroll to daycare! 

Enjoying the Chinatown Park portion of the Rose Kennedy Greenway

Have a Cigar

I've probably ridden the MBTA daily since 1997. Since then I have seen my fair share of noteworthy people and incidents; including, but not limited to:

• a shooting (at Fields Corner over some gold jewelry)
• toe nail clipping
• teeth flossing
• head-butting
• crazy ranting and raving
• self-pleasuring
• exposing oneself
• vomiting

Today though, I saw someone openly smoking a cigar on the Red Line. This guy was different than the kids I've seen sneaking cigarettes on the platform, as they always look like they'll pee their pants if they get caught. This guy was actually enjoying a lit cigar on his morning commute and looked so comfortable and sane, that I think he'd have been apologetic if someone pointed out to him that it was prohibited to smoke on the T.

The 12 Days of MBTA

On the 1st day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 1 grimey pole!
On the 2nd day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 2 frost bitten toes!
On the 3rd day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 3 busses too full to stop!
On the 4th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 4 medical testing ads!
On the 5th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 5 blasting iPods!
On the 6th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 6 red lights!
On the 7th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 7 seats occupied by shopping bags!
On the 8th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 8 seconds to read my monthly pass!
On the 9th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 9 bottles rolling around the floor!
On the 10th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 10 discarded Metros!
On the 11th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 11 coughing passengers!
On the 12th day of Christmas the MBTA gave to me, 12 minute stall between South Station & Downtown Crossing!

My Boston Limerick

As part of a contest on Boston.com, I wrote a limerick today. Readers were asked to submit one that sums up Boston. I wasn't sure if there were syllable requirements to take into consideration in addition to the a-a-b-b-a rhyming scheme. I also wasn't sure if a limerick should start out with, "There once was a..." Oh well, I had fun writing it! I wrote mine about the morning commute, because that sums up Boston to me. Or at least that's something I spend a lot of time thinking about.

Shivering outside, cold freezes my feet

I see the bus! Maybe I'll get a seat?

Ugh, line's out the door at Dunkies

Iced coffee, skim, no sugar, please

Melt snow! (So I can whine about the heat.)

And, as my family in Buffalo would say, "There ya go!"

Passive Agressive Bus Driver

This morning I decided not to risk walking the quarter mile or so over sidewalks covered in blocks of ice to the corner of L and East Broadway to catch the 7, but just hopped the 9 which stops a block away on either side of our building. I was able to find a seat when I hopped on at H St; however, there was a boatload of people waiting to board at F St.

Some people stubbornly refuse to move towards the back of the bus when others are boarding. They press themselves against the seats and try to become as thin as possible in order to avoid moving back to the standing room section on the upper platform. As a result, there's usually a rider pig pile near the driver and people are in front of the yellow line. Some drivers just ignore the over-the-line-yellow line offenders, while others enforce the rule but shouting and shaming people into moving to the back to make room for the others.

This morning our driver was an Enforcer. After the last person had squeezed onto the bus, the standees practically had to inhale in order for the driver to close the front door.

Ding. Dong. Ding. I heard a series of tones overhead. "When boarding the bus, please make room for other passengers and stay behind the yellow line," a cheerful, yet stern automated female admonished. I hadn't heard that one before; a nice alternative to the male automated voice.

No one budged. Ding. Dong. Ding. We heard the same message again and still no one moved. Ding. Dong. Ding... The driver sounded the polite (and now incredibly annoying) message about 5 times before people finally got the hint and moved to the back of the bus. Give me a shouting angry bus driver any day; a loud threat "not to move this bus until you are behind the line!" is much more effective. There's no room for niceties on the bus.

Fore Crying Out Loud

If you're not planning on playing golf, don't use your huge golf umbrella to commute on rainy mornings. Why don't you try a nice Totes umbrella? They fold up nicely and can fit into most bags and purses.

You can even squeeze a friend under here too... which leads me to sing...

"Bus stop, wet day, she's there, I say Please Share my Umbrella" All together now! (That's got to be the best rainy day song to sing while waiting for the bus.)

She's got it; Yeah baby, she's got it

Dunkin Donuts was packed this morning. Maybe everyone needs more coffee than usual after celebrating last night. While waiting in line and tapping my toe along to "Venus" which was playing in the store, I was lost in thought about how no one ever orders the blueberry flavored iced coffee. Suddenly, I found myself at the front of the line and I didn't have my gift card in hand. (Since the lines are so long and people are in a hurry in the morning, I try to be as expeditious as possible by having my precharged card ready to hand to the cashier.)

I figured I had about 45 seconds before the next cashier would become available, and I challenged myself to find my card prior to that. My purse is not in an organized state, and the odds of me finding the card in less than a minute were not in my favor. I felt my hand hit my check book, some loose change, a hairbrush, my keys, and finally, my card. With a sense of triumph that bordered on being pathetic I quickly raised my card from the bowels of my bag just as I heard, "Next person in line!" Not only did my card emerge, but out of the corner of my eye I saw something else fling into the air and land on the man's foot behind me. A tampon. To his credit, the man just let me remove it from the floor without a witty remark. Hopefully, the man was not familiar enough with feminine products to realize that the pink wrapper also meant that this was no ordinary tampon; it was a super.