November 26, 2014

Hello dave Thanksgiving Eve, AKA Rookie Day

Today is Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. What is it that people do today? They travel. They go see their loved ones. And how do they get there? By any means possible. This includes the Long Island Rail Road. 

Normally, I take the Wednesday before Thanksgiving off, but not this year. I’m hoarding my vacation time. As a result, I’m taking the train home right now, sailing the sea of cluelessness.

It is Amateur Day. Rookie Day. Every person in the New York Metropolitan area with a familial tie to Long Island is on this train. My friend Marsh, who has contributed stories as TTIV’s Metro-North correspondent would say that the API, or Annoying Person Index, is in the red zone.

The woman next to me is chatting away on the phone. She wants to quit her job and become a professional shopper. I’ve heard that yesterday was her birthday about five times in the last 10 minutes. A friend has drama in her life. Her train ticket says she’s going to my station. I bet she stays on the phone the entire trip. 

My friend Octavius, whose peeves you heard about in an earlier post, told me that he rode the train earlier today. Some woman had a huge basket of cookies on the seat next to her. A throng of people was standing but didn’t have the guts to ask her to move the basket. Octavius, professional commuter that he is, went right up to her and asked her to move the pastries. She begrudgingly moved them. Octavius 1, Rookies 0.

The overhead racks are loaded up with bags and suitcases. Somewhere on the other end of a car, a child is screaming. A guy just got up and was thrown when the train jerked, almost directly into my lap. It’s Rookie Day!

I have my music on volume 10 now, and I’ve succeeded in deafening myself. And yet I can still hear the woman next to me, who is scarfing down some alfalfa sprout-based meal in a plastic bowl, talk to her friend about how she and her significant other have become strangers. 

Now with all that out of the way, let me wish you readers a Happy Thanksgiving. None of this stuff really matters, does it? Among many, many other things, I’m thankful for your commuting camaraderie. Writing the blog is therapeutic for me, and I’m glad you all come along for the ride.

November 25, 2014

Hello dave Winter Commuting: What NOT To Wear

The weather's been all over the place lately. Freezing cold one day, 60 F the next. You never know how to dress. But don't worry. TTIV cannot guide you on what you SHOULD wear, but certainly can help you with what NOT to wear. When the weather gets cold, everyone starts to bulk up. Bulking up creates seating challenges on the train. The aim of today's blog post is to lay out some guidelines to help alleviate those challenges.

Prohibited train wear
A mink stole. Shouldn't this be obvious? Judging from the number of times I've seen commuters wearing such coats, I don't believe it is. If Madonna gets on my train, she is welcome to stand in the vestibule. I don't want her in the seat next to me, because that coat is going to take up a lot of room.

Why get on the train all fancy? Does the person really want to take the risk of wearing a $20,000 coat (I have no idea how much a mink coat costs, but $20,000 sounds right) on the aisle seat? What happens when some drunken buffoon walks by with a hot dog and spills mustard all over it? If that coat were mine, I wouldn't want the risk. Take a limo and leave us schleps alone.

Allowable train wear, with caveat
Long coat with a belt. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with a long coat that has a belt. I wear a trench coat sometimes when it's raining, or when I feel like flashing people. Just kidding! I'm rarely in a flashing mood.

But when I do wear my long coat on the train, I do one of two things. 1) I take it off and put it on the overhead rack, or 2) pull it closed and ensure the belt is wrapped around my waist before sitting down. Why is it so important that commuters do this? Simple. No one wants to sit on an extraneous buckle or coat section. I try to be considerate.

So, the official TTIV ruling is that if you are capable of taking responsibility for your long coat, you may wear the coat. This privilege is subject to revocation.

Prohibited train wear
Puffy jackets. See George Costanza. Under no circumstances is the puffy jacket allowable on the train. People who wear them take up two seats, even if they weigh 90 pounds with the jacket off.

There is one key exception to the puffy jacket rule, and that's the puffy jacket with no sleeves. It's a vest. A cold weather vest, and it's perfectly acceptable to wear on the train.

Allowable trainwear
But before I explain why, would someone explain to me how this is a functional style? You put on the coat, it keeps your torso warm, but your arms are left to freeze in the cold. How is this desirable? Sure, it looks nice. But if your fashion choice could lead to amputation, it's probably a sign that you should consider other options.

Sorry, I'm deviating from topic. This has become a chronic problem.

From a commuting perspective, the sleeveless puffy jacket is perfectly acceptable. It allows the wearer to stay within the confines of his train seat. So while his arms may be cold, he's doing me a service. So freeze on, comrade.

And lastly, do not store your coats with mothballs. Unless you're traveling with Madonna in her limo. In which case, stuff your coats full of them all summer long.

**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
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Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

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November 20, 2014

Hello dave Sleeping Past Your Stop, A Reader's Story

Readers: Are you familiar with the "Patch" websites? These sites share community news and interesting stories with readers, and my blog posts are sometimes distributed there. Today's TTIV post is a story related to me by Marv, a Patch Reader from Plainview. He read my story, "Slept Past My Stop. A Lesson Learned," and related his own similar tale.

I get some of my best sleep on the train. A fallout of this is sleeping past my stop, which I've done on multiple occasions. Usually, it's not that big a deal. When it happens, I can walk around to the other platform, wait a bit, and a train will soon come. But then there was the day I slept REALLY well.

After a meeting in Long Island City, I was running late and walked briskly to the Hunters Point Avenue station for my ride back to Bethpage. I arrived with a few minutes to spare. Running down the steps, there were two trains parked and open on both sides of the platform. I jumped on what I thought was my train. I sat down and got comfortable. Strangely, the doors closed and the train pulled out early. Early? The Long Island Rail Road is never early.

Figuring I was on the wrong train, I asked another rider if this train stopped at Jamaica. You can always correct your mistake if the train stops at Jamaica. He said yes. Good. 

I passed out rather quickly. Next thing I knew, that same person poked me. "Did you say you needed to get off at Jamaica?" I exploded out of my seat to get off, but realized we were pulling out of Jamaica, not arriving.  "What is the next stop," I asked.  "This is the express to Montauk." WHAT?  TTIV Note: For those unfamiliar with Long Island geography, Montauk is 100 miles from Jamaica. Marv was on an express train making no stops until the Hamptons. 

I found a conductor, and explained what happened. He seemed to take glee in my predicament. "When is the next train to return?" "Tomorrow." Are you kidding? I told him, "I need you to stop the train, so I can hop off."  Blank stare.  He said he would see what he could do, and that he would return.

Some time passed, and he was nowhere to be seen. I walked the train to find him. Along the way, I met an attractive young woman who was in the same predicament. She'd also gotten on the wrong train. Finally, the conductor appeared, and reluctantly they stopped the train so we could get off.

Two westbound trains and a lot of time later, I was in Seaford (Nassau County), and my wife came to pick me up there. Did I ever hear it from her the whole way home. What can I say? I deserved it. Today, we laugh about it.

I use a daily alarm now.

TTIV Note: There are three morals of this story:
1. Set your alarm before the expected arrival time at your destination. 
2. If you call your spouse to pick you up far from home, prepare for grief. It's your fault. 
3. If you find yourself in a similar situation, and you are male, find a pretty girl in the same predicament to help plead your case. She will make your case far better than you ever could.

**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
Share your commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.
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Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

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November 19, 2014

Hello dave The Commuter of the Day: Bongo Man

Recently, I sat across the aisle from a musician. He had a bongo, and he wasn't afraid to play it. All the way from Penn Station to Mineola, where he got off. He sat in that seat for the whole ride, headphones on, big grin, eyes closed, working out that bongo.

The funniest part, at least to me anyway, was the guy sitting next to him who barely even gave a glance. Clearly a veteran of the rails.

In fairness, Bongo Man was considerate. He did not bang hard on the drum so as to disturb everyone around him. But it's not often that you see a guy wailing away on his percussion instrument on the 7:11 PM to Ronkonkoma.

Note: These men did not really have green faces

**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
Share your commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.
Sign up for the blog mailing list by entering your email address in the "Follow By E-Mail" box.
Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

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November 16, 2014

Hello dave The Peeves of Octavius

Did that title get your attention? No, this isn't about Roman charioteers getting to and from the Circus Maximus. Today's TTIV entry is a guest contribution from a friend who has many commuting peeves. He shared a few with me. He prefers to be anonymous, so we'll call him "Octavius."

Many things about the commute bother me, but lately some have bugged me to no end. Here are my top three.

Coffee cups shoved in the rectangular newspaper recycling bin slots. Didn't we all learn as toddlers that round shapes don't fit into rectangular slots? Not everyone paid attention that day. Is it difficult to grasp this? The bin says, "Newspapers Only." People shove their coffee cups into the slots and leave the tops sticking out because they are too lazy to find a proper receptacle. I think recycling is important, so I pull the coffee cups out and put them in the proper trash so I can dispose of my newspaper. Dopes. TTIV note: What about a tablet-based newspaper? Wouldn't that be better for the environment, and eliminate a peeve?

Don't "bro" me out of my seat, bro. As the train makes the final approach into Penn in the morning, the conductor makes the usual arrival announcements. If I'm sleeping in the aisle seat, the window passenger may cause sleepus interruptus by saying, "excuse me, bro." I don't like being asked out of my seat minutes before the train reaches the station. It doesn't get him far at all, because he and all the other antsy standing passengers have nowhere to go. He then stands in the aisle directly next me. He gets one body ahead of me and robs 10% of my commuting sleep time. This is all too common on the 5:35 AM train. TTIV note: Not a problem for me. I'm still in REM sleep, gripping my teddy bear at 5:35 AM.

Hey conductor, how many times do you need to see my ticket? I just showed you my monthly ticket eight minutes ago. Why am I showing it to you again? Just before Jamaica, remember? Why can't you remember me? I remember you. I'm commuting here! It doesn't matter if I'm sleeping, reading, or in the midst of a high score game of Candy Crush. Don't bug me more than once. I showed you the ticket. Put up one of the those punch cards so you can remember. Grrrr. TTIV note: Get a lanyard and wear your train pass around your neck. Works for me.

Plenty more in my brain. These were just the woes of the day. I'll be back with more.

Thanks Octavius, for sharing your commuting peeves. 

Do you have commuting peeves? Of course you do. Everyone does, and I want to know what they are! Share them with me at thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com, or post on Facebook or Twitter with hashtag #TTIV. 


**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
Share your commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.
Sign up for the blog mailing list by entering your email address in the "Follow By E-Mail" box.
Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

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November 14, 2014

November 13, 2014

Hello dave High Stakes Platform Roulette

What do Las Vegas, Atlantic City, your local OTB, and the Long Island Rail Road have in common? Thrilling gambling! Odds in your favor! The chance to win big! The distinct possibility of losing your shirt!

You're probably wondering how the Long Island Rail Road fits into this category. In today's blog post, we'll explore "Platform Roulette," a challenging game of skill and chance. The rules are simple. You wait on the platform, hoping to be directly in front of the doors when the train stops.

To properly explain the game, I need to use crude drawings. Today's crude drawings came out pretty good, even if when scaled to life size, the people are 1.5 feet tall.

Train platforms all have yellow painted signs or pasted decals indicating, "Watch the Gap (WTG)," in front of a safety line. While it appears the MTA is looking out for your safety, they are merely looking out for their own protection from frivolous lawsuits. WTG is useful for the person who can't comprehend that one should step over the gap and onto the train. You may be saying, "only a person with the brains of an intellectually challenged goat would need such guidance," and you'd be right. This same goat brain also:
  • Needs the warning on the coffee cup that indicates "be careful, the beverage is hot!" 
  • Needs the warning on a silica gel packet that says "do not eat" 
I'm deviating from topic. Getting back to the point, the train doors typically open in front of WTG. When people are waiting for their train to arrive, they congregate around these spots.

Figure 1: People waiting for the train
In Figure 1, the people standing around WTG are playing at the safe tables. They're taking the 2:1 odds.

The people with pink heads are playing the 8:1 odds, standing away from WTG. They're hoping to hit it big if the engineer stops the train a little short of the platform end. If this happens, the doors will open misaligned with WTG.

When you play Roulette, there comes a point where the croupier says, "no more bets," and everyone waits to see where the ball will land. In Platform Roulette, when the train starts to pull into the station, "no more bets" has been called. The people move closer to the edge of the platform, creating a hermetic, arc-shaped seal around the expected door location. This ensures that no late arriving commuters sneak in front of them.

Figure 2: Train doors are aligned with WTG
In Figure 2, the train has arrived. In my crude drawings, the doors look like iPods from the "Clickwheel" era. The safe bettors receive a 2:1 payout, and perhaps get to choose a decent seat.

The 8:1 bettors will likely stand.

Figure 3: Train doors are misaligned with WTG
In Figure 3, the train arrived but didn't stop at the end of the platform. The iPod Clickwheel doors will open misaligned with WTG. The 8:1 bettors get rewarded for their risk with good seats, while the safe bettors grumble about the change in routine.

If the Long Island Rail Road really had Clickwheel type doors, Apple could be an official sponsor. With large marketing cash infusions, fare increases could potentially be averted. Unfortunately, the odds of Apple doing this are about 1,000,829:1. Moreover, the odds of the MTA properly managing a cash surplus are too astronomical to state.

**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
Share your commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.
Sign up for the blog mailing list by entering your email address in the "Follow By E-Mail" box.
Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

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November 10, 2014

Hello dave Strange Things On The Tracks... And In My Head

When I'm standing on the platform waiting for my train, I often scan the tracks looking at the debris people left behind. When the train takes a long time to arrive, my mind begins to wander about the debris. Sometimes I come up with absurd ideas. Absurd ideas that make for good blogging. 

Pillow on the track. Yes, I know, this is a rerun. But there have been quite a few new followers since I posted this, so it's fresh to some. Besides, it's worth revisiting.

I'm guessing some guy was standing on the platform waiting for the train, holding his pillow, when... WHOOPS! It went flying down to the tracks. Well, that's the realistic story. But what fun is a realistic story?

Maybe he looked at the pillow and saw an evil image in a drool stain. Thinking it was possessed, he cried, "CAST YE OUT, OH EVIL ONE!" He then tossed the pillow to the tracks. This caused the man next to him to momentarily peer above the horoscope page, shrug, and return to guidance on avoiding love decisions until his moon left Pluto.

And there the Beelzebub pillow sat. On the tracks. And we were saved.

A light bulb and a tube of toothpaste. If you zoom in on the picture of the tracks, you'll see that those two specks of white on the track bed are a) a light bulb, and b) a tube of toothpaste. I know there's a story here.

The light bulb is the curious item to me. How did the bulb get down to the track bed, unbroken? It's just sitting there, waiting for a Jewish groom to step on it, so everyone back on the platform can yell "MAZEL TOV!"

Perhaps a groom-to-be was on his way to his wedding, and dropped the ring on the tracks. It's not safe to go down to the tracks of course, but he couldn't leave the ring behind. So, he went down there and got the ring. As he picked it up, the bulb rolled out of his bag, along with the toothpaste. I hope the absent-minded and clumsy groom made it to the wedding. I hope the wedding took place.

Most of all, I hope he knows that a happy wife is a happy life. After writing this post, I'd like to thank my wife for putting up with me.

**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
Share your commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.
Sign up for the blog mailing list by entering your email address in the "Follow By E-Mail" box.
Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

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November 6, 2014

November 5, 2014

Hello dave Perfume Karma

I got on the train today and found a great seat. The woman in the adjacent seat respected the boundaries, and there was no duct tape anywhere to create a sticky mess on my clothes. Score! I sat down and got comfortable.

I noticed that the woman was wearing perfume. A reasonably attractive perfume. And then, I realized that she was wearing a lot of it. My nose started to burn. My eyes started to water. I'm not a highly allergic person, but when things trigger the allergies, they trigger them in a grand way.

I sneezed, multiple times. I'm sure the people around me wanted to run away, or have me run away. But there was nowhere for anyone to go. The train was crowded, so I wasn't going to be able to change seats without standing. There we all sat.

The sneezing stopped. My eyes were itching, and my nose was still burning, but the sneezing stopped. I started breathing through my hand, creating whatever filter I could.

Then the burn returned.

The sneezing started again. The woman next to me was clearly disgusted. She probably had no idea it was her perfume that triggered it. Perfume Karma. I'm guessing the irony was completely lost on her.

Thinking about this is making my nose itch again.

Moral of the story: If you're commuting on the train, forget the perfume. Forget the after-shave. Forget the bean, cheese, and onion burrito. And bring a big box of tissues. You never know when you might run into me.

**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
Share your commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.
Sign up for the blog mailing list by entering your email address in the "Follow By E-Mail" box.
Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

If you like the blog, tell a friend!

November 3, 2014

Hello dave Miscellaneous Irritants Of The Day

You may have noticed I haven't posted in about a week. I've been suffering from a case of writer's block. It's hard to believe I've had nothing to say about the train for this long. But today, I'm back.

If you've been following for a while, you understand the importance of things going just right on my commute. It means so much to me. When frustrating things happen, I log those events. Sometimes I report them to you immediately, and sometimes keep them on ice until there's enough to make an interesting post.  I'm ready to share a few of my pet irritants.

Speaking of irritants, the woman next to me is blabbering on her phone. She's hiring two photographers and they've sorted out the menu for the event. Thank goodness. Happy Bar Mitzvah, Louis.

Hey Conductor! Open the friggin' doors! I don't think the train conductor's job is especially complex. Check the tickets, punch the tickets. Open the doors, close the doors. Make announcements. So why is it that the conductors are nowhere near the door controls when they need to be? Why do I stand in the vestibule at my destination, train stopped for a minute or two, and the conductor goes running past me to open the doors? Is it so hard to stand at the controls BEFORE the train gets to the station? When the train stops, open the doors. Easy, no? Maybe I'm missing something.

Punched ticket shrapnel just missed going INTO my coffee. Look at that picture. Just look at it. Can you see what happened here? I was sitting in my seat, minding my business. I flashed my monthly train pass to the conductor. The person sitting next to me was not a regular commuter, and handed a ticket to the conductor. What did the conductor do? He punched it right over my coffee. Look at where the punched part went! It missed the opening of my coffee by less than an inch. HORRORS! I'll put up with a lot on the train. DO NOT mess with my coffee.

Unstable person #829. Recently, I sat in the six-seater in the center of the train car. Across from me, diagonally, was a guy. A moose of a guy. Big dude. Thick neck. Short crew-cut. He kept rolling his head around, presumably cracking his neck. Then he started shadow boxing. Really. Then, out came the cell phone. He must have read something funny, because he commenced snort-laughing. He struck me as a bit unstable, so I considered moving. Then a family of four came and sat in the remaining seats. He got up and left. Problem solved. Or was it? More like being in the fire instead of the frying pan.

I'll stop here for now, although I have many more in my list of pet irritants. I'm going to make some coffee and refresh my story backlog. Please don't interrupt. You know what coffee means to me.

**
Happy and safe commuting, and may you encounter uncommon sense.
Share your commuting stories on the Facebook TTIV site, on Twitter, using hashtag #TTIV, or via email.
Sign up for the blog mailing list by entering your email address in the "Follow By E-Mail" box.
Twitter: @davidrtrainguy
email: thetrain.invain.829@gmail.com

Tell a friend!