tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13763986399008141972024-03-13T00:23:36.815-04:00I Hate the Red LineElizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-89306421626261433682012-06-05T17:23:00.003-04:002012-06-05T17:29:58.476-04:00Farewell Red LineNo more curry fart smells<br />
No more pink bags full of putrefying fish and rotten produce<br />
No more unwanted physical contact from creeps<br />
No more homeless people telling me that they want to kill me<br />
No more drunks asking me why I stole their money<br />
No more poop logs on the floor or on the seats<br />
No more scary Wollaston locals with long, crusty, pointy fingernails<br />
No more snakes named Penelope slithering around for months<br />
No more hoards of teenagers cussing and telling each other various tales regarding each other's mother<br />
No more sticky floors<br />
No more obsessing that my hair had absorbed the urine, smoke, curry fart and fish smells that fellow riders contributed to the ride<br />
No more double wide strollers running over my feet<br />
No more backpacks or unnecessarily huge and pointy handbags digging into my back/sides<br />
No more trains that are too crowded to fit on<br />
No more twice-daily anxiety wondering on a scale of 1-10 how horrendous my commute will be<br />
No more stepping on sucked-dry ribs and chicken carcass pieces in the bowels of the MBTA<br />
No more getting startled by rats and mice with no tails scurrying around the tracks whilst waiting for the next Braintree train<br />
No more nausea from slow trains/trains that stop and start and stop and start and chug along the tipped tracks<br />
No more loud cell phone talkers -- in any language -- screaming in my ear<br />
No more getting trampled by rude/weird Quincy locals trying to be the first on the train<br />
No more fighting back tears while getting touched from every angle of my body by all parts of other people's bodies<br />
No more running home to shower a la "The Crying Game" every day to rid my body of the sweat, germs and other people's gross skin contact<br />
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Yes, my loyal readers, I have officially stopped taking the red line to work every day. I Great White Flighted to the suburban oasis that is the South Shore, and now have the pleasure of taking the Commuter Rail every day. <br />
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I rode the Red Line every work day for over five years. Naysayers didn't think I could last a year on the Red Line since I hate germs and unwanted physical contact from gross people who smell like fried fish diarrhea. It's a big change leaving the city but I can safely say after just over one week on the Commuter Rail that I will not miss the Red Line. Since I work in the city I am sure that an occasion will come where I need to take the Red Line, so I will keep this blog live and reflect on my random -- and hopefully infrequent -- trips on all of the nasty MBTA subway lines.<br />
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Thank you so much for reading my blog! I hope my misery entertained you.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-13218124999893829292012-05-17T11:06:00.004-04:002012-05-17T11:06:55.057-04:00My last Thursday on the Red Line!! Praise!Was just on the phone with my favorite girlfriend, Erica, and realized that today is my last Thursday of commuting on the Red Line!<br />
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My husband and I are finally moving out of wretched Quincy, and in just over one week I will be on the glorious commuter rail. We'll just have to wait and see if ihatetheredline.blogspot.com turns into ihatethecommuterrail.blogspot.com. Hopefully not. Please god, please.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-51069334948907500972012-04-04T10:16:00.004-04:002012-04-04T13:33:17.701-04:00That was really nice, thank you.Talk about an adventure -- this morning's commute into South Station on the red line was HORRENDOUS. It started out with getting to Wollaston right as "The next red line train to Alewife is now approaching." I thought, "excellent timing, me!" and got right on to only a semi-packed train.<br /><br />We had the typical nonsensical delays at JFK, then rolled into Andrew and had to hang out there for a few minutes. I could vaguely hear the conductor informing us of something but the speakers in the train are of such crap quality that I couldn't understand what she was saying.<br /><br />Finally we get to Broadway and miraculously the speakers in the train were fixed and on max volume. We were first informed that there was an issue at Downtown, and that we were waiting for the ok from "Central Control" to keep moving. 5 minutes pass with numerous, way-too-loud announcements about how we were standing by and there was no estimate for how long we'd be stuck there. Most of my fellow passengers were cool as cucumbers since we are all pretty used to never having an incident-free commute, but I did chuckle when I heard some lady start going nuts and huffing, "Jesus Christ!"<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IGOX0Qby9hs/T3yEsGX0FPI/AAAAAAAAAD8/c8qqX4NjnwM/s1600/Bus.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 191px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727598719268033778" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IGOX0Qby9hs/T3yEsGX0FPI/AAAAAAAAAD8/c8qqX4NjnwM/s320/Bus.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Maybe 10 minutes passed, and we were told that OUR train was coming out of service. "No passengers, no passengers," we heard, and everyone of us on that now packed train de-boarded. Once we were off the train we were told within a few minutes that service had been suspended. No more trains!! What the hell? This was a first for me, but I was a little happy to be able to walk out of the dirty pit that is Broadway Station and up to the fresh air. The masses of thousands of disgruntled red line riders went upstairs to, of course, no direction as to what we should do. Some people walked, others took taxis, and many more of us just stood there waiting for a bus. I managed to get on the 3rd bus. Here is a picture of me on my second ever Boston bus (along with 200 other people). Pardon the expression on my face but I was squished by a man who had the strongest, most offensive curry odor I'd smelled in a long time.<br /><br /><br />So it turned out that there was a fire on the tracks at downtown crossing, and I arrived at work 40 minutes late thanks to the red line and the nasty people who litter on the tracks and start fires. I can't remember the last time that there were no issues on my red line commute for more than 2 consecutive days. It is ALWAYS HORRIBLE!!!!Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-70527498119024130852012-01-31T09:17:00.005-05:002012-01-31T09:40:48.900-05:00Claws, vomit and nightmaresEver notice the amount of grown men with long finger nails taking the red line into/out of Quincy? This morning I had the displeasure of standing in front of a seated man who had the crustiest, most yellow, long, pointy fingernails I'd seen in quite some time. Take a look and you will throw up in your mouth a little just like I did:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka6F_vVZq38/Tyf7l80V5JI/AAAAAAAAADw/PJn2Ee6COYA/s1600/crust.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703804082487420050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka6F_vVZq38/Tyf7l80V5JI/AAAAAAAAADw/PJn2Ee6COYA/s400/crust.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>Not only were this man's hands nauseating to look at, but at one point he started tapping his crusty claws, one at a time in quick succession against the metal pole, creating the most irritating and vomit-inducing noise I'd experienced in a long time. I gave him the look of death and scurried away in disgust/terror as he proceeded to make his claw/pole music, which sounded just so beautiful when combined with his hacking, wet cigarette cough.</div><br /><div><br />I'm definitely going to have nightmares about those claws tonight. Usually they only have one or two long pinky or thumb nails, but this guy had 10 fingers in need of a visit with a hacksaw and anti-fungal treatment. At least he didn't pick his nose with them, as I all too often witness on the red line.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-24575341806048997412012-01-05T09:06:00.007-05:002012-01-05T09:16:28.114-05:00Video! Coldest commute day and biggest crowds.What the F, MBTA. I'm on to you... on Tuesday you announce potential fare hikes. This gets people upset and gets them thinking, "Hey, I don't need the damn T if they're going to be so expensive." Then, in an obviously calculated attempt to show people how much we need the T to run properly, the frackin red line has disabled trains and ridiculous delays on the coldest commute of the 2011-2012 winter season.<br /><br />I got to Wollaston and noticed a lot of people waiting downstairs. I thought, "oh it must be reeaaallly cold and windy up on the platform. I'm going to get a good spot and let those suckers rush up the stairs when that 8:35am train rolls in!" Silly, naive, me. I get to the top of the stairs and there must have been thousands of people standing there. There was also a train, packed to maximum capacity, just sitting there. People were desperately trying to squeeze on, as though this train was the last one to heaven and everyone else was destined to eternity in hell. What a pathetic display of desperation and inconsiderate behavior. Step back and let that damn train move, people! Jesus. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JqsLaNlpRg">Check out my VIDEO of the scene here</a>.<br /><br />So I wait, and wait, and wait, and there are several announcements on the loud speaker about a disabled train at Wollaston. The damn thing had moved so let's freshen up the announcement and be accurate, MBTA robot spokesman.<br /><br />Miraculously, after about 20 minutes of standing in the 13 degree and windy weather at the top of the open Wollaston platform, a train pulls up and I get on! The pack of people pushing their way on to the train was disgusting, and I did intentionally kick the shin of man behind me who was pushing me.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-7949934588801600012011-12-21T10:03:00.005-05:002011-12-21T10:07:54.440-05:00Thank you Santa for less-crowded trains<div>As slow as the train has been lately, I do appreciate that many people seem to be taking some extra time off around the holidays, so the trains haven't been as crowded as normal. I found this picture online and it made me think of the red line at its worst...</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688598074395614994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KA0Y8i6c9bA/TvH1zyZSXxI/AAAAAAAAADk/aIgT80_TTho/s400/train.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://chill.tumblr.com/post/885374347">Click here for photo credits</a></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-49466239139572521622011-12-21T10:00:00.002-05:002011-12-21T10:03:12.099-05:00Sloooooow movin'Anyone else feel like the train has been slower than it needs to be on a daily basis recently? It should take about 15 minutes to get from Wollaston to South Station in the morning, but lately it's been taking 20+ minutes due to slow moving and lots of annoying stops that make people fall over.<br /><br />C'mon, Red Line! Where is your Christmas spirit? GET MOVING!!Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-64194219985338712642011-12-07T16:36:00.003-05:002011-12-07T16:39:18.544-05:00Sniffle, snort, sniffle, snortWTF is up with people incessantly sniffling their snots? Get a tissue!<br /><br />As you can tell, I forgot my headphones this morning so I had the pleasure of listening to lots of sniffles and snorts and annoying loud people having insipid conversations. And of course since it was raining, the train took forever and was overly crowded and stopped just outside the JFK station just for the hell of it. <br /><br />Ugggggg.... so not looking forward to the ride home.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-90863130886126978302011-11-30T15:53:00.010-05:002011-11-30T16:12:32.356-05:00Top 10 things about the red line that I didn't miss when I drove into work todayI was just grabbing a fresh glass of water at the office when I remembered that I don't have to take the T home tonight. I drove into work. Rejoice!<br /><br />For the sake of brevity (and sanity), I will keep this Top 10 list to just 10, and it is focused primarily on the typical red line experiences that happen in colder weather.<br /><br /><br />10. Loud teenagers yelling politically incorrect words and phrases and cussing at eachother with no regard for the smaller, impressionable children around them.<br /><br />9. Getting kicked by some nasty little kid in a stroller with his dirty little boots and his clueless, strung out teen mom does nothing about it. (Sidenote -- man oh man, could I go ON about strollers on the T!!!)<br /><br />8. The nauseating odor of big old puffy winter jackets that have been in storage and never cleaned and absolutely reek of ashtrays, mothballs and sh*t.<br /><br />7. Getting bumped into repeatedly by a strange old lady who refuses to budge even just 2 inches into the huge amount of space on her other side while I'm squeezed between her and a bunch of loud teenage whores.<br /><br />6. Getting breathed on by a tall man with liquor breath.<br /><br />5. Standing in an unknown sticky substance and then obsessing about the kinds of filth that are sticking to me.<br /><br />4. Freaking out because of a fellow rider with what sounds like whooping cough and does absolutely nothing to cover her mouth and the cough gets louder and more phlegmy each time.<br /><br />3. Having to cover my nose because of the intolerable odor from those pink grocery bags from Chinatown filled with god knows what kind of rotting produce and fish.<br /><br />2. Adult men with long fingernails that have black filth caked under the tips.<br /><br />1. Dry-heaving over curry farts.<br /><br />Wow -- that was too easy to write and I keep thinking of more!!Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-12623398295165933432011-11-07T13:05:00.002-05:002011-11-07T13:05:36.459-05:00PoopI wish I'd noticed that chunk of poop on the floor in the train this morning before I stepped in it.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-70690828594905059012011-10-31T11:02:00.002-04:002011-10-31T11:10:02.806-04:00Spooky presence on the Red Line...I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted. Unfortunately for me, my prolonged absence from this blog had nothing to do with a reduced amount of time taking the red line. A new job has made me very busy and my commute shorter, but that doesn't mean that the red line isn't haunting me every day.
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<br />This morning, keeping in the Halloween theme, I was spooked to see a frighteningly large crowd of ghouls and zombies (a.k.a. regular red line riders) standing at the haunted Wollaston platform this morning. Of course the hell train that pulled up was full of scary souls blocking the doors and refusing to stand in the center of the train. I immediately noticed a spine-chilling presence of curry, and as soon as the door closed, a terrifying cloud of rotting corpse diarrhea fart possessed the entire train.
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<br />Just another day. Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-7797369406345420822011-09-15T12:12:00.004-04:002011-09-15T12:21:59.523-04:00Yelling at idiotsSometimes I just have to put rude people in their place.<br /><br />Last night on my way home on the red line, the train was packed and I was standing, holding onto one of the infested poles to steady myself. At JFK a woman squoze on next to me and proceeded to place her hand on the pole about 5 inches above mine, and letting her full plastic grocery bag that was dangling from her wrist knock my hand completely off the pole. I looked at her and said, "why thank you, am I still in your way?" No response from her. I grabbed onto the pole above her and dangled my bag in her face. She didn't seem to mind.<br /><br />Seven minutes later we got to the N. Quincy station and as the doors closed and we departed the station, the small filthy man who had been sitting in front of me stood up and I think said, "excuse me". I replied with, "can't you wait until the train stops? there's nowhere to move." He didn't even look at or acknowledge me and likely didnt speak English anyway, so he just stood there with his filthy self right in my face. I should have just let loose and really yelled at him since it appeared he had no idea what I was saying anyway. I didn't budge an inch for him. 2 minutes later we arrive at Wollaston and boy is he anxious to make sure he gets off the train. Naturally, in a huff, I whip my bag into him and block him as I very slowly made my way off the train.<br /><br />Don't mess with me, people.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-49877965723867046652011-09-01T09:35:00.001-04:002011-09-01T09:36:00.108-04:00I need a showerI wanted to get to work early today but the MBTA Red Line had other plans for me.<br /><br />On a good day it takes me about 40 minutes door-to-door to get to my office. Today it took 75 minutes due to signal/switch problems up at Charles MGH. <br /><br />Of course this happens on a day when I don't have my phone charged so I couldn't listen to music to drown out the incessant commentary and complaints about the situation, or take pictures of the sweaty back that kept rubbing against me or the armpit (heavily doused with cologne, thank goodness) that was in my face. <br /><br />Pictures can't capture the warm breath of the tall man standing next to me, huffing and puffing and mumbling about the situation, but I will not forget the sensation and inclination to vomit that I felt each time he breathed on my face. I had nowhere to turn, no protection, so I lifted my Metro to my face and held it against my forehead for a little while. <br /><br />It would be so much better if, during these delays, the train would stop at each station quickly instead of "standing by" with the doors open so more and more rude jerks can squeeze on and rub their nasty skin, sweaty clothes and dirty bags all over me. <br /><br />I wish my office had showers in the ladies room. Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-85058793627820098112011-08-26T09:10:00.003-04:002011-08-26T09:14:09.769-04:00Keep the votes coming!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aY4RchbjVs4/TlecEtYBbGI/AAAAAAAAADY/PIjdR2OkXAw/s1600/MVB_badge_boston.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 194px; height: 262px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aY4RchbjVs4/TlecEtYBbGI/AAAAAAAAADY/PIjdR2OkXAw/s400/MVB_badge_boston.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645152262645967970" /></a><br /><strong>Please, please, please vote for "I Hate the Red Line" once everyday through September 9!</strong><br /><br />Just click here: http://boston.blogger.cbslocal.com/most-valuable-blogger/vote/misc/ <br /><br />Then scroll down to "I Hate the Red Line" and click on the vote button --no need to sign in so it just takes a few seconds!<br /><br /><br /><em><strong>THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU</strong></em><br /><br />Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-50693252749261313712011-08-23T09:24:00.006-04:002011-08-23T09:57:28.015-04:00I had to yell at 3 people this morning.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NF3xUVyVPNs/TlOxZ79vHOI/AAAAAAAAADQ/dVVCG4CUvHA/s1600/freaking%2Bout%2Bbag.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 341px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NF3xUVyVPNs/TlOxZ79vHOI/AAAAAAAAADQ/dVVCG4CUvHA/s400/freaking%2Bout%2Bbag.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644049817176841442" /></a><br />Beautiful morning, pleasant walk to the Wollaston T station... not so pleasant feeling when I get to the top of the stairs and see a mass of people waiting for an Alewife train.<br /><br />The train arrives 4 minutes later and as I'm getting onto the train, I see that everyone is crowding the door per usual and I have to yell at someone for standing halfway through the standing area with enough room for 3 people to his left by the end of the car. He moves and there's room for more people to get on the train and I get an ok spot holding on to the rail by the door with a small person sitting in front of me. Unfortunately my left hand gets whipped repeatedly by a frizzy ponytail on a short woman in front of me so I say, "gross, watch your hair", readjust my positioning in the limited amount of space I have, and put my left hand down by my side. She doesn't understand English -- or she just likes disgusting people with her rat tail on purpose -- because she keeps doing it. I hold up my Metro basically wrapping it around her head. She doesn't seem to notice. What the hell.<br /><br />We get to N. Quincy and 500 more people squeeze on. As mentioned, I have my left hand (which has already been assaulted by nasty hair) down by my side. Right away some dude squeezes himself onto the train next to me, bends down, SMEARING HIS GREASY WARM FACE ALONG THE ENTIRE LENGTH OF MY ARM AND HAND. I freak out, yell, "SICK!!!" and jerk my hand away, struggle to find my hand sanitizer because the train is so crowded and I can barely open my bag, and then I'm even more grossed out by the heavy breathing of an old man who has the worst diaper breath I've ever encountered. <br /><br />Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-8299064790605819102011-08-22T17:21:00.004-04:002011-08-22T17:23:20.747-04:00I'm a finalist!! Thank you for your votes!!Keep on voting!!<br /><br />http://boston.blogger.cbslocal.com/most-valuable-blogger/vote/misc/<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LCinj967R28/TlLIjOg8y4I/AAAAAAAAADI/dBxwKceRQM0/s1600/MVB_badge_boston.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 194px; height: 262px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LCinj967R28/TlLIjOg8y4I/AAAAAAAAADI/dBxwKceRQM0/s400/MVB_badge_boston.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643793790565927810" /></a><br /><br /><br />Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-24487477731179668462011-08-18T09:16:00.003-04:002011-08-18T09:40:52.074-04:00Things that bothered me on the T over the last 15 hours<strong>1. Leg crossers. </strong>Talk about rude! Why do these leg-crossers who have a seat feel the need to cross their legs, thereby taking up even more space with their legs sticking out into the middle of the standing area? I've been noticing this a lot lately. Sometimes I'm even straddling people's gross feet because they refuse to just let their feet rest on the floor. And the taller the person it is, the more their legs jet out into the standing area. Frackin' rude!<br /><br /><strong>2. Tampons on the tracks. </strong>I saw this scene this morning at Wollaston. Wow.<br /><br /><strong>3. Cigar smoking. </strong>This happened outside Wollaston entrance while I'm waiting to cross the street. Talk about rude. Who gets off a train and desperately needs to immediately smoke a cigar? That shnizz stinks. <br /><br />Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-456274183747692802011-08-17T16:20:00.003-04:002011-08-17T16:24:29.431-04:00ROCK THE VOTE!http://boston.cbslocal.com/most-valuable-blogger-voting/<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjfAYRsi5pU/TkwjVSspQnI/AAAAAAAAADA/OMg0MVNXjPE/s1600/I%2Bvoted.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 234px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wjfAYRsi5pU/TkwjVSspQnI/AAAAAAAAADA/OMg0MVNXjPE/s400/I%2Bvoted.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641923281891705458" /></a><br /><br />http://boston.cbslocal.com/most-valuable-blogger-voting/<br /><br /><br />Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-10255196083909705682011-08-10T10:18:00.005-04:002011-08-10T11:38:19.009-04:00Cops n' fartsNaturally I was stopped by the police this morning to search my bag as they always do, so I missed a train by about 30 seconds. Wicked pissed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vN96MjOWlro/TkKlonXH0vI/AAAAAAAAAC4/nEAs3bixrcw/s1600/police%2Bsign.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vN96MjOWlro/TkKlonXH0vI/AAAAAAAAAC4/nEAs3bixrcw/s400/police%2Bsign.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639251800600597234" /></a><br /><br />Ten minutes later another train comes along, and when we got to N. Quincy a large man, sweating with heat radiating off of him, put his sweaty armpit millimeters away from my face as he held onto the top bar. I had nowhere to go, but luckily he didn't reek of b.o. However, the heat coming off of him was really disturbing and I think that was because he was having digestive issues becuse there were some amazingly foul and nauseating rotten egg diarrhea farts throughout the ride.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-12921520163129225822011-08-03T14:53:00.002-04:002011-08-03T14:56:40.962-04:00Most valuable blog? I like it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1gsIpy_OlQc/TjmZzI-SQxI/AAAAAAAAACw/au02smclrYw/s1600/mvb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 379px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1gsIpy_OlQc/TjmZzI-SQxI/AAAAAAAAACw/au02smclrYw/s400/mvb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636705512491991826" /></a><br /><br /><br />I deserve SOMETHING for having to deal with the torture of riding the MBTA everyday: http://boston.cbslocal.com/most-valuable-blogger/<br /><br />Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-52785244421728645812011-08-03T08:59:00.004-04:002011-08-03T09:41:34.278-04:00It never ceases to amaze me how rude and gross people can beIt's always a bad sign when I walk up the stairs at Wollaston and see a mass of people waiting for a train. It's also a bad sign when the train appears and that mass of people gets on, uncomfortably squished, and the train doesn't move. It's also wicked rude and annoying when oblivious d-bags have their Metro opened as big as it can possibly be as they lean against and cover with their body a pole that 10 people need to grab onto, and then rub the edges and corners of the open newspaper against my arm, stomach and breasts. Newspaper assault! <br /><br />When we finally arrived at North Quincy this morning, the conductor announced that the train would be express to South Station, and that anyone who planned to get off at the 3 stops between N. Quincy and South Station should get off the train. No one got off, as expected, but a bunch of people squeezed on. Naturally I get stuck in an awkward position with the newspaper assaulter now poking me even more in the front, a large man with a large backpack digging into my back, a B.O. stinkin' man with the hairiest arms I've ever seen to my left rubbing against my left arm, and a short woman pushing into me from the back-right, breathing heavily on and touching my right arm, and resting her arm on my right shoulder because she can't reach any higher and there's a suitcase and body blocking the rest of the pole. Oh, and there's a young woman sitting in front of me with her legs crossed (therefore taking up way too much room) huffing and puffing and complaining to anyone who will listen about the delays and how crowded the train is even though her body isn't being touched by ANYONE, and of course she eventually slams her high heel into the top of my foot as she un-crosses her legs. Does she apologize? No. She gives me a dirty look and sighs again, as if it's my fault for being in her way and I deserved the pain or something. So nice. <br /><br />If my math is correct, I had a minimum of 4 people constantly touching me and pressing into me during my entire ride from Wollaston to S. Station with a couple foot stomps. I won't even attempt to count the number of other bodies with which my body came into unwanted contact at Downtown Crossing.<br /><br />I HATE the red line. Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-63192088568961954892011-07-28T11:40:00.000-04:002011-07-28T11:43:46.442-04:00No comment.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ehEQe6zgZI/TjGDJpLljiI/AAAAAAAAACg/HgtzDug3JLE/s1600/mily.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ehEQe6zgZI/TjGDJpLljiI/AAAAAAAAACg/HgtzDug3JLE/s400/mily.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634428810513714722" /></a><br />Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-22809442536133134702011-07-27T11:34:00.000-04:002011-07-28T11:47:31.480-04:00Now I have to worry about pink eye? Cripes.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RjEY96ld3t8/TjGB7V4NnxI/AAAAAAAAACY/Wude7D5hnH0/s1600/pink%2Beye.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RjEY96ld3t8/TjGB7V4NnxI/AAAAAAAAACY/Wude7D5hnH0/s400/pink%2Beye.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634427465302384402" /></a><br />I'm alreayd freaked out by the potential to catch MRSA on the train but hadn't considered pink eye. Sick.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-47726375422311196772011-07-21T09:19:00.000-04:002011-07-22T11:29:52.243-04:00Stopped again by police<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kVJqhpXrbDs/TimW334lw8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/KfGhJS_VETA/s1600/police%2Bcoffee.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 340px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kVJqhpXrbDs/TimW334lw8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/KfGhJS_VETA/s400/police%2Bcoffee.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632198695641793474" /></a><br />I was stopped again by the police to search my bag at Wollaston this morning. Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1376398639900814197.post-59871443594753479152011-07-12T16:16:00.005-04:002011-07-18T10:27:52.978-04:00My worst nightmareIt happened today but thank the lord I wasn't on that train. 447 people had to be evacuated from a disabled train on the Red Line outside Porter Station in Cambridge. And I heard that it was TWO trains that got stuck? What the hell, red line!?!?!?! This happened close to 10am, and I just cannot fathom this happening to me during early morning rush hour on a completely packed train in July. <br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DhhMA3PH0s8/TiRBx6D3X8I/AAAAAAAAACI/1hf8dyh0CTY/s1600/train%2Bdeboard.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 324px; height: 270px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DhhMA3PH0s8/TiRBx6D3X8I/AAAAAAAAACI/1hf8dyh0CTY/s400/train%2Bdeboard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630697759774826434" /></a><br /><br /><br />It was a hot day and these poor people were stuck underground for almost 3 hours. They had to be evacuated from the train underground and walk through the tunnels of the nation's oldest subway system. I can't imagine the stench of dead rats, sewage and asbestos down there! Now I will have to be extra obsessive about making sure I have water and reading materials every time I roll the dice and hop on the red line.<br /><br />Read more here: http://www.thebostonchannel.com/news/28520847/detail.html#ixzz1SSzy6sK0Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00023357870538225793noreply@blogger.com0