Red Line

Johnny puts together a series of notes on riding the T, including:

... I'm waiting for the evening train in South Station and I look across the tracks to find a man CHANGING HIS CLOTHES!!! Literally took off his shirt and pants, was stripped to his boxers, and changed into new clothes....DURING RUSH HOUR! There was one brave soul who cried, "Hey Buddy, put on some fucking pants!" (good ol' Boston!) and the rest of us stood there with our mouths agape. ...

Of late, Elias has been finding his Red Line commute an ideal way to catch up on his reading:

... I find that at least once at week one's inbound or outbound commute is blown to hell either by slow trains with balky doors, the aforementioned switching issues or some other unforeseen misery. That is all without factoring in the whole mishagas with the buses. ...

Meanwhile, Margaret (you remember her - knee surgery), shares her correspondence with the MBTA over the months-on-end outage of the Park Street escalator and her feeling of unease at using the urine-puddled elevator.

Ellen wonders why the announcer on the Red Line never asks you to take your empty Big Gulp cups or used tissues:

The announcer on the Red Line really wants you to take your newspaper with you and throw it out when you leave the train. He said so at Davis. And Porter. And Harvard. And Kendall. And Charles/MGH. By the time you get to Park Street, he is sobbing over the PA system: "Please...I beg you, for the love of God, TAKE YOUR NEWSPAPERS WITH YOU AND THROW THEM OUT. Good God; have you no mercy? Can't you see how I am suffering!?" ...