
*Screams*
It started off well enough, I suppose. I made it to the bus in no time. Made the bus (despite having to launch myself like a missle over the snow banks), got to the train by 7:50. All good. Then, an express arrives at 7:55, and I can't believe my luck. Unfortunately, that is precisely when the trouble began.
I am convinced that I am cursed. No matter how many competent people may possibly work for the MTA, I always seem to get on trains piloted by those employees who have the mental capacity of a rabid, brain damaged howler monkey. First, the conductor and the engineer seemed to be at cross purposes with one another, both claiming to be in charge despite the fact that one obviously was, and one obviously wasn't. First, after crawling along, we stopped at Newkirk for nearly 10 minutes, while they shrieked at one another over the intercom about the fact that the doors wouldn't open. Finally, we get an annoucement that the tracks at Newkirk are too slippery, and we'll be bypassing the station. What the fuck ever. So, after the next stop, they announce they'll be skipping 7th Ave and Atlantic ave. For no reason. They just felt like it. The only problem is, the engineer forgot that we wouldn't be stopping at 7th, and needed the conductor to scream at her to remind her. (Which caused some lovely lurching, due to the rapid stopping and starting in succession.) At last, we reach DeKalb. I am hopeful that things will even out. I get a seat, and there is an announcement that the next stop on the train would be Court Street, because the train was going through the tunnel, and not over the bridge. And we did, as slowly as was possible without standing all the way fucking still. Worst of all? We stopped at City Hall. For no one except some damn superintendent. GAAAH!!
The train ran normally after that, but I didn't get to work until almost 9:30.
I now have a LARGE pile of work to do, and a headache, both from grinding my teeth on the train and the fact that about 20 minutes after I got settled in at work, black smoke started billowing up from beneath us. After a bit of panic, we were told that there was a car fire on 53rd street, the fire department was on it, and to go about our business. Which was all true and fine, save the smoke that came in from outside, smelled horrible, and made me queasy.
It can only get better....right? *sigh*
ETA: Am also horribly dissappointed with the new Jeffrey Eugenidies book. He's apparently fallen into the 'let's write all about my family, but thinly disguise it and give it a twist' school. For the most part, I usually HATE books like that, as every author thinks that their family was astoundingly tragic/unique/interesting, and really, they were not. I'll put it away and try again in the summer, when I am more patient. I also forgot my paper journal, which is VERY annoying. At least I have some other books to choose from here.