Boston Public Transportation: helping people get their exercise

More snow. In two weeks we broke the record amount of snow for an entire winter and it’s still snowing. I’m all for snow, especially now that I can work from home and blog on my lunch break.

The only problem is Boston’s public transportation system seems to be dying a slow, drawn out, painful death. It has the potential to linger on life support for many more years, but it’s not going anywhere fast.

On any given day I can walk 2 miles to work or I can take the Red Line to the Green Line and sometimes get there faster. The other day I head down to the Red Line platform. There’s a train half-in half-out of the station. The woeful people on the train are staring back at me. The MBTA guy says,

“I have no idea when this train is moving.”

I walk to work.

Two days later I get on the train home. Three stops later it’s not moving. Fifteen minutes later it’s still not moving. The driver announces,

“The train ahead of us broke down. I don’t know when we’ll be moving.”

I should’ve walked.

This weekend, extra large coffee in hand, I get on the commuter rail to Natick to meet my mom and begin realizing my dream of a wedding dress after years of designing it on the back of Friendly’s place mats.

The train gets stuck between stops near Newton. I’m still enjoying my coffee, but I’ll need a bathroom soon. Half an hour later the train hasn’t moved yet. I need a bathroom. Other people seem to feel the same way.

The conductor announces,

“The bathroom is out of order.”

I cross my legs, stare out the window and contemplate the last remnants of my really large coffee. The weirdo guy across from me tries to get my attention. I ignore him. My patience is very thin. He tries harder,

“Excuse me excuse me excuse me!”

I look at him.

“Is there a bathroom?”

Join the club buddy.

We’re 10 minutes from my stop. I’m an hour into really needing a bathroom. The train gets stuck again. I peer my head outside. Three of the train workers are standing on the platform staring at the wheels. If staring at trains fixed them, then this one would be all set. I tell the conductor,

“I’m desperate for a bathroom.”

“It’s out of order.”

“I don’t mind.”

I’ll pee on a clogged toilet. I’ve done worse.

“I can’t let you in the bathroom, it’s covered in blood.”

I call my mom,

“I’m getting off the train now.”

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