8 Degrees

That's the high today in Boston, MA. I had to take the T this morning, against all my better wishes, as there was almost no physical way I was going to be able to make the 6 mile walk to Chinatown this morning, where I had to go to get my license renewed (away on business next week).

8:00 am and all of 6, count 'em, 6 degrees outside the coldest day of winter so far. I knew this was going to be the walking test, whether or not I could really balls up and walk in the New England cold, and sure enough, with my long-john suit on and some good layering, I was pretty warm.

Only, I would be warm if I was moving - no, instead, I got the pleasure of waiting 15 minutes for an inbound Greenline; those of you who don't know Boston, the MBTA above-ground trolleys have a maximum of two cars per train service. Imagine being in NYC where each subway car was only an eighth to a quarter as long as it needed to be for efficient service. Now take away one of those cars, for, due to some unimaginable reason, the second car sat in the dark, not accepting passengers. Why even have a second car?

In such, the first car was so packed that no one could get on, and the OrangeJacket trying to maintain order shrugged with sheepish impotence as he collected the recently increased T fare.

I'm not getting on, as I see another T cresting the hill behind it. By the next stop (and I live pretty far out along the subway lines), the train was overfull and remained that way until I completed my grim commute the DMV - like out of the frying pan and into the fire right?

I would be remiss though if I didn't compliment the Mass DMV - they are actually, and efficiently run, pleasant group of people, willing to make strange exceptions for idiots like myself who let their license expire and need something to pick up a rental car.

Oh, and the ride back involved 7 D-line trains in a row. How many people are headed out to Riverside?

I don't even know what to say about this

Here's today's must read.


I mean, holy Christ, this is a major metropolitain transit system and we are relying on fucking BLACKSMITHS? After we get done turning the Wayback Machine to 1910, perhaps we can all mount our trusty steeds and see if, on horseback, we can beat the B Line from Packard's Corner to Kenmore.

...Blacksmiths.

Ain't Working

This goddamn job. A man with a shopping cart full of yellow books rattling past two pro-lifers who were genuflecting in front of planned parenthood just about made my morning.

First Snow

It should snow on Allston all the time, as it looks way less shitty when covered over. Even the seemingly free-for all trash heaps along Harvard Ave appear as innocent fixtures on a long city scape.

The view from Summit Ave had downtown looking like Beirut, steam belching up from every car and building, and there I was, ready to run from the zombies.

Everyone should go here.

I've lost about 7 pounds, just by not taking the fucking T.

10 Foot Effluvia

I can't wait until the really foul weather starts up, so that during my work day I can be even more smug and self-righteous about my walk to work.

Like today for instance - pouring down rain all morning long, and like an idiot, I can't find an umbrella. The Boston Sewer and Water commish needs to get its act together as well, because it wasn't the rain that had soaked me through by the time I got to my desk, but the goddamn rivers of filth built up from clogged as storm drains. When I say that they are impassable, I mean that they are at least half-a-foot deep at nearly every intersection. It makes for happy when a delivery truck tries to break its own record for wave splash all over your humble narrator.

Money that the T has not received from me, to date: $6.00.

Footy

Went out for a long session of belated birthday drinks with ThePrince at the best bar in Kenmore, and after hearing about his past weekend spent walking amongst gentiles at Christmas, and Drunk Santa Neighbor, we discuss the brutal reality of the situation:

THE MBTA IS ALL-POWERFUL. PESKY MORTALS WILL NEVER CHANGE THE T, FOR THE T IS INFALLIBLE.

But, though THE T is like "Fuck poor people," ThePrince did come up with a ringer of an idea - that I should simply walk to work.

Rollicking fuck Jesus, yes! Walk to work! I've been looking for a cheap way to motivate my lazy-goddamn ass, and this is an awesome opportunity to do just that. Fuck the fucking T. Hear that, bitch? I'll walk the same route your tracks go, and I'll save myself four fucking dollars a day, which, with proper investments, can turn into packs of cigarettes and whiskey.

Do you accept bits of string?

January 2nd brought some changes to my life, some resolutions: namely, stay on top of my finances, cut down on the constant alcohol-fueled benders that are my evenings, make regular dental check-ups, switch cigarette brands, be a better correspondent, the usual.

A late paycheck had just arrived to soak up the holiday overdraft fees, and, though I knew that my beloved MBTA would be raising its fares in the New Year, I figured my entry-level salary would be able to absorb the blow.

Nope.

Where my entire commute had been a measly $1.25 (when you ride the B-Line, they only bleed you going inbound, that is, into downtown. They had the goddamn human decency to let you ride outbound to Allston Rock City), I was delighted to discover that not only had they raised the fare, but that they would now be charging for a previously free service.

Listen, I know this sounds like proletariat bitching, I know New York and Philadelphia and London and Paris all have public transit that is hugely expensive by comparision, but really, that's the whole point:

See, Massachusetts in general, and Boston specifically, is so hopelessly expensive that
one of it's few saving graces was the relative inexpense of the trolleys. Yes, I have put up with a half-decade of appalling service, never getting a seat, up to my tits in unwashed undergraduates, been spat at by a conductor for having the audacity to try and pay the once 85 cent fare with a dollar, watched in hopelessness as yet another train refused to stop as it hauled itself express into the pitiless cold of a New England February morning, when all we want is to get to work on time. Unless you're coming home in the evening, at which point, no matter how early you think you get out, the trains run so infrequently that you get the privilege of watching no less than 3 trains go by, as they are too full to let even another quanta on board.

But at least that indignity didn't cost me anything. Until yesterday.

You can imagine how happy I was to have a fixed expense in my very fixed income explode to 320% of what I was paying. That's right - was $1.25 for a roundtrip journey (free outbound, buck and a quarter for the morning ride in). Now it's $2.00 inbound. And $2.00 outbound. And all the fucking attitude you can handle.