New Haven Line Wednesday November 28 6:45 PM

The ride home is dull and sleepy tonight. A few people make quick phone calls as we emerge from the tunnel before 125th st. Mostly checking and returning voice mails in a last ditch effort to complete business or errands from the day. Now mostly everyone is reading, sleeping, or staring into space mulling over the days events or things still to come. Soon we will start making stops and the quiet tranquility of commuting life will be kicked back into action with packing of briefcases and putting on coats for the final leg home. Most days I hate all these people. Today I sympathize with what they have to do each day. No matter the income or satisfaction derived from their work, the commute is a hassle and we all have to deal with it our own personal way. The time spent alone with one's thoughts can be excruciating especially after a bad or frustrating day. Even joy has to be stifled and placed on hold. Many times I rush to my car, slam the doors, and as I quickly pull away from the parking lot, I scream at the top of my lungs just to clear my head. Just to threaten the silence and solitude of the group.

New Haven Line Tusday October 16 8:45 AM

There is a sewage treatment plant between the East Norwalk and South Norwalk stations, I know this not because it is an eyesore along the tracks, which it is, but rather because of the horrendous odor that wafts through the train every morning. It is an awkward situation for all the regular commuters because there are always a few people in each car who have either never ridden the train before or seldom take the trek into New York City. The odor is exactly what you would expect it to be, and the plant is not easily noticed as the train zips by so I am confident that someone thinks that one of their fellow passengers is responsible for the offensive stench. The people unfamiliar with this occurrence will inevitably start to look around for the offending passenger while those of us who expect this intrusion each morning will stare even more intently at our books, newspapers, or lap tops because if you make eye contact with the smell police you may become a suspect. I would rather adhere to the golden rule of flatulence, he who smelt it dealt it.

Metro North October 4th 6:32 PM

I am always amazed when people get on the train with anything larger than one of those socialite pocketbook dogs. I can't put my feet on the seats without getting a tsk tsk from the conductor, but your labrador can just plop right down? I do not want to get into the scatological details of a dogs daily activities, but aside from just out of the lake retrieving a tennis ball or on the way home from the aptly named doggy salon, Bone Jour - a dog is rarely sit where I sit clean. Of course I am no fuss budget when it comes to tidyness. I am as much of a slob as anyone of my generation who was shaped by the hippie revival and grunge era of the late 1980's and early 1990's. I can't bring myself to visit the tailor or even the dry cleaner. As the clothes hang on the rack is how I accept them into my closet. "Pret a porter" is what Heidi Klum might say, but she certainly was not refering to my wardrobe which is mostly culled from sales at the Gap and redeemed coupons at Kohl's. Either way this lady with her gigantic dog rushing onto the train at the last possible second and of course everyone makes google eyes and starts talking baby talk to the dog which is either oblivious or thinks all humans are idiots. Why people lower themselves to such levels around a dog, a baby, a cute elderly person, or even quaint pictures of each is amazing to me. I think it may be a way to express their dominance over each. By talking down to each, they become marginalized. One does not greet a pretty girl in a bar this way or a politician. No matter how cute they might be.

Metro North April 25th 8:11PM

Henry was the worst hit man in the family. Riding the train to the city was not only embarassing but also inconvenient. He was also somewhat of a spectacle compared to his fellow passengers because he insisted on wearing a jet black suit with a blood red tie and four point hankerchef. What was the point of being a gangster if you did not dress the part? He shined his shoes every morning and dreaded the ride into the city. He shaved and trimmed his moustache each morning and hoped everything was running on time. So far the bosses have turned a blind eye to his transportation issues, but one mistake would probably change all that. Today might just have been that day as mechanical problems have led to a 3 hour delay. Hopefully his target is still peacefully unaware of his pending fate still snoozing in room 2314 of the W Hotel in Union Square. If not it will a long ride back to Darien this evening.

On the 6 Train September 10th 11:10PM

Someone has pissed in a snack size Wise potato chip bag and set it upright on the seat. The train lurched just after 14th street, as it does, and the bag tipped over spilling urine all along the seat wetting the pants of several riders. Some slightly as they sprung up realizing what was happening and others more so as they slumbered. Now before you call me "a glass is half empty" kind of guy and challenge the actual content of the bag as possibly lemonade or Tropical Citrus Energy Vitamin Water, mark my words it was urine and the provider of the specimen needs to drink more liquids.

Metro North March 29th 10:36PM

This big fat sloppy guy in sweat pants sitting across the aisle from me just opened his briefcase and it is full of balloons. Not inflated ones of course. You could probably only fit one or two in the average briefcase. They are the the long balloon animal constructing type. I hope this guy is not a clown. If so John Wayne Gacy is alive and well and commuting from CT.
Wait this hot girl eating a banana just got on and she sat next to Gacy instead of me. I can't be that repulsive. Am I an a Fellini picture? Maybe a midget riding a pony and a gigantic woman with enormous cone shaped breasts will get on at 125th.