Coming to You From a "Sort Of" Malden Resident

Greetings. Between moving to my new apartment in the glorious Boston suburb of Malden (Up on the T's utterly amazing Orange line to Oak Grove) and catching a monster cold, posting various witticisms hasn't been too high on my priority list. All is well again, however, and I am back to doing very little with my life.

The "sort of" in the title actually comes from the simple fact that I have yet to change my state of residency. It costs over a $100 to change a license over from RI to MA. Not to mention I have yet to get anything official with my name on it besides the lease.

As for recent observations:
-The main branch of the Boston Public Library ROCKS.
-A big WTF to people who bring large amounts of luggage with them on the T during rush hour. I bet that bargain flight out of Logan doesn't seem such a good idea NOW, Mr. I-have-to-bring-a-huge-suitcase-and-a-bedroll-and-a-enormous-backpack-on-the-T-at-8am.

Good to be free again!

Getting off (on) the train, or Two guys, a girl, and the T

After grabbing a Metro paper from the seat next to me after the gentleman reading it changed at D-town X-ing (sorry, you know my love of mockery), I spent part of my Red line ride conflicted: shall I go see Viggo’s new movie, or Johnny Deep’s new movie? Honestly, they both look interesting (and, hey, its not like I’d be looking at Johnny, anyway…see, I’m not that shallow!) …And they are (good-looking and) mighty fine actors.

It was after finishing the paper while we were pulling into Central that I took note of the couple sitting directly across from me. They were…well, I’d say ‘kissing,’ but I don’t think that it would convey the full picture here; they were ‘making out.’ At 7:45 in the morning. On the T.

Now, I don’t have a problem with all PDA; some handholding, cuddling, and the occasional kiss are perfectly fine. I just don’t need to hear wet, sucking sounds while I try and look away as his hand moves from her face down her neck and to her breast/shoulder. It seemed to make some other folks a bit uncomfortable, as well.

It got a bit stranger, though, after another young man plopped down next to the guy and snuggled up against him. The two guys (without even saying hi or acknowledging the arrival) gazed at each other a bit lustfully (ouch, nice word choice there, Sarah) while the new guy played footsie with the man who was again nuzzling the girl.

The idea of two guys and a girl didn’t bother me (after all, I’ve imagined more…I mean worse…er, other things); I just found it all a little out of place on the T. A little PDA is fine, people, but I don’t want to feel as though I’ve participated in something when I’m getting off the train.

Window Shopping (on the T) for Information

Having both a librarian and a historian inside of one can be a bother at times. Never more than when one discovers a "mystery" that needs to be solved in order to satisfy some insatiable curiosity.

Riding the Red line from Central Square to Harvard, I frequently would simply space out and look out the "windows" into the nothingness of the tunnel. Soon after I began commuting in July, I noticed what seemed to be an old revolving gate leading to light in the tunnel itself (less than a minute out of Harvard. 'Must be an old station.' I thought to myself. I was curious, but I figured that I was lucky that you could see that much and ignored the impulse to rush over to the window.

I happened to be paying particular attention that night, as we left Harvard station, to the wall on the "right" side of the train. About the same distance out, I noticed a break, but I couldn't see anything. Determined to see all that I could, sitting next to the windows and looking out became a bit of a mission for me, as did finding out if this was the "old" Harvard station (and just more about lost T stations and the history of the T in general).

I did a bunch of catalog searching, finding a few books at the Boston Public Library, but nothing that really satisfied my curiosity. I e-mailed the folks at the Boston Historical Society, but they have yet to respond. A helpful MBTA Red line employee did respond to my question (via e-mail), though, noting that what I was seeing ARE the remnants of the old Harvard station, before the line was extended out to Alewife.

Its rather creepy to look at, actually (very Pneumatic transit Ghostbusters II-esque...Without the river of slime...as far as I know). There is some "spray-paint wall art" (graffiti) and lots of trash, but you can sometimes see parts of the stairs or the old stripe of red tiles on the wall. You can see it on both sides (though just the gate on the "left") while coming towards Alewife, but I've only seen tiles on the "Left" when heading back to the city.

If you know of any other "lost" stations, let me know, as I'd love to spend a day just traveling around looking at them (and finding out more about them).

Update (2005.09.13): I took a look on the "left" tonight when heading back into Boston...you can actually catch a glimpse of stairs going up if you're good.

Feeling useless, but not tweezer in the eye useless...

Ever find that nothing you are doing is helping anyone, making anyone's life better? It is just so upsetting, feeling like so much is going wrong in the world, so much suffering is happening...And not only am I doing nothing to stop it or prevent it, I don't even feel as though I could do anything.

Sigh.

When I got on the Red line at South Station this morning (it was fairly full and I was standing), there was a woman, about my age, sitting in a seat and putting mascara on. And not just a touch up, she spent the entire ride from SS to Park Street working on coating one eye. This woman was putting on a lot of mascara. Granted, I don't wear makeup often anymore; I wake up too early (4:45am) to really care. But, it seems a bit dangerous (and, you know, kind of stupid) to hold something so close to your eyes on a moving train that frequently jolts you around.

If this wasn't bad enough, after we left Charles/MGH, she pulled out a compact and a set of tweezers. Really. There she was, sitting on the train as we arrived in Kendall Square plucking her eyebrows like it was the most natural thing in the world.

People are STRANGE.

Maybe a cane or a walker?

Near some homes for the retired folk in Lincoln, there is a sign that I just noticed today as we we're driving to the T station. It is a yellow diamond with a picture of a person walking.

Under it, the sign says "Elderly Crossing."

I hope I'm not the only one who fins this hilarious/a bit sad.

Sights and Smells

My commute is never boring, at least.

Sitting in my usual spot (first car, bottom row,second seat on the left in the back), I welcomed the return of Mr. Mustached Conductor man. He (apparently) is back from vacation and still rocking the bushy 'stache. I was happy to see him.

Just before we pulled into the station at Sharon, I saw two deer in a small meadow just off the tracks. They were startled by the train, it seemed, but content enough to stand there as watch as we passed. Since it was a bit misty this morning, the whole scene was quite beautiful.

The air rushed up the stairs just as I made my way to the bottom. I've smelled a lot of B.O. on the T, but this was like a cloud of it, just hanging in the air. A few people were making faces, and even that very friendly woman who passes out the Metro paper seemed to notice it.

As for my workday, I received the e-mail letting me know that my boss is on vacation this week, which is cool. Except that with him and the "big" boss gone, I'm not getting paid until next week (which, by that time, I may as well just wait until Wed. And get the whole month in one fell swoop). Not that I'm going to die without it, but I need to remember to get paid.

Things I hate: When people put each file (each, as in one) in a separate folder when they send them to us. UGH!

Run Away! Run Away!

Ever feel uncomfortable when you see your co-workers outside of work? I do. Especially on the T. One of my co-workers (whom I see on occasion) takes the Attleboro line into South Station with me and then the Red Line. And I always end up walking right behind her into South Station. It is a weird situation. A nod, a "hi"...am I obligated to talk? I don't know if she noticed before, but she may have noticed today, since I became so frazzled and embarrassed that I ran around head of the woman walking slowly in front of me (something I would have done anyway) and down to the Red line.

Ahh...the social anxiety.