A Red Line train heading towards Alewife took note of the time and decided rush hour was as good as any to up and die.
With nothing else to do, Jeremy Newman composed an Ode to the MBTA:
Crowded, stuffy, rates-a-hikin;
Bodies crammed; often late.
Sweat-a-drippin, whats that smell?
Cruel twist of public fate.
Kris Kream was more prosaic:
Hey MBTA it’s hot as hell on the platform with well over 300 people waiting! Can we get a train please. It’s rush hour!