The Messiah

One of those religious sorts got got on in Brentwood today. She's sitting in front of me and holding a printed card in her hand I can clearly see from my seat that proclaims "You Are the Generation to See the Messiah Come". Trust me when I say she doesn't look Jewish, and I thought we were the only ones still waiting for this dude to get here. Wait, she just pulled out an appointment book and started wildly flipping through dates and pages, while speaking loudly on her cell phone in tongues. Okay it sounds suspiciously like English overlaid with a thick Caribbean accent, but speaking in tongues sounds more biblical and authentic for this bit anyway. Holy cow, I just thought of something.  Perhaps SHE'S the messiah and she's trying to figure out which date is best to arrive. I would have thought the Messiah would be using Outlook Calendars to plan the big day though, perhaps synching with a Blackberry and letting everyone know he (or she) was finally here via Twitter or FaceBook.  Disappointing....

Sweaters

Yes we have sweaters today. And not the wooly garments we all don in cold weather. The Statue of Liberty's inscription says something about "huddled masses yearning to breathe free". Well if there was a monument for the LIRR it would have something about "sweating masses yearning to breed germs" carved into it, I'm sure. Of course, if the LIRR was building a commemorative monument to itself, we all know it would be delayed due to track space and perhaps even move slowly through Jamaica due to switch problems and slip-slide conditions. (sorry, couldn't resist) Anyway, back to sweaters. For those of you lucky enough drive to work, when passengers wait for trains down on the platform it can get quite steamy. After everyone is seated and well-defrosted, the sweaters start sweating. And they don't stop once on board where it is temperature-controlled. Not quite sure what proper etiquette is, do we offer these poor, dripping wretches a ShamWow or just pretend we don't notice and hope to stay dry?

Mystery Puddles and Other Unexplained Phenomena

So, there's a mystery puddle right in the center of the row with rivulets snaking out in all directions. It wasn't there when we left the station and yet, nobody is claiming ownership. In fact, passengers have their respective heads bent in studious denial, thus avoiding the few of us most affected swiveling our heads like the Exorcist to try to identify the culprit. The bottom of my bag has now become soaked in this unidentified train juice. I just shot a well-aimed eye dart at the guy two rows up on the right. He caught my gaze, flinched appropriately and then sadly shook his head. Okay, it obviously wasn't him, but I'm sure he has done something in the past to deserve the occular beatdown. We really need to establish a passenger-run P.B.I. outfit to investigate these claims as we all know the MTA has no more money to fund their own official one. At $300 for a monthly per person times millions of passengers plus shady accounting and change of regime every time they are close to being outed, its easy to see how they have no money. Soon Sally Struthers will be pitching us to pledge just $1 a day to feed our conductors, I'm sure.

Freeloaders

My grandma was famous for saying "beggars can't be choosers". I elect to upgrade that expression to "beggars can't be truthful". This is how broke freeloading riders are stepping up their game and bringing it in 2010. Guy wanders up the aisle today loudly asking anyone if they can spare change, he just needs money for a ticket. Then he quickly goes on to announce that he is (get this) not panhandling...he's just unemployed and just trying to get to his job. I'm not sure how you can be unemployed and commuting to work at the same time, perhaps he didn't really think that one through. Or just underestimated the mental acuity of us morning commuters. So, of course in the spirit of apathy, nobody on my train car looks up to meet his eye. Or offers any money. I kind of felt bad for the guy actually, I feel like he should have told a joke or done a little dance...you know, earn it. I debated whether to make that suggestion but in the time it took for my neurons and electrons to finish firing, the conductor lectured him about theft-of-services and threw him off at Farmingdale. Can you even imagine the serious street cred this guy could have had if he just let himself be arrested for theft-of-services? He came very close, he could have been locked up in a SuperMax with turnstyle jumpers and jaywalkers....and maybe the guys who sell bootleg CDs on the corner.

Nose Whistlers

There is a huge construction worker next to me, carpenters union from the looks of it (and the pine shavings clinging to his denim jeans) and he has a major nose whistle. I'm talking a Mach-3 military-grade industrial noise pollution 5AM factory nose whistle. And he's sleeping. I'm not about to wake a sleeping giant..., so I'm going to send the LIRR my medical bill for the two perforated ear drums and hearing aids...

The Puffer (stencherys gasii)

This species of commuter would be known as Crop Dusters if they were ambulatory.  As on the train they are seated and stationary, they are deemed Puffers.  These creatures tend to be female and inhabit end seats, thus blocking the possible escape of captives.  Puffers generally appear desperately normal, thus lulling their prey into a relaxed state before they strike with their olfactory missiles. This species is characterized by frequent rearranging of belongings in lap.  This behavior is designed as camouflage but instead just produces a wafting effect which disperses the nose bombs uniformly across the row of seats. Due to their dubious cover as normal people, Puffers cannot be avoided usually.  However, disdainful glares will produce an acceptable and satisfying level of shame. If you can still see them through your watering eyes, that is...