NJ Transit and me, NOT so perfect together...

From February, 2007

I hate trains. I really do. And usually when I find myself on one, there's a problem. Especially NJ Transit. Always a problem…and they are never on time. It makes me crazy. So needless to say, I wasn't very happy when this snow and ice storm hit. Because for two days I had to take NJ Transit and then, even worse, I had to take the subway. Let me give you a rundown of my travels…

Tuesday Night:
8:45pm – I board my train to Manhattan in Point Pleasant. It arrived on time. A near miracle.

8:46pm – Some ghetto ass bitch sits down behind me on her cell phone. She's yelling at her friend about "…fuck those hoes. I'm gonna kick that bitch's ass when I see her. Who does she think she is…" so on and so forth. I immediately pull out the iPod and put it on extraordinarily loud. I probably have hearing damage cause of this bitch.

8:47pm – Mean looking Harley chick conductor approaches for my ticket. I have to buy it from her and she informs me that it's $19.50. "Did you say $19.50," I say. "Yeah," she replies. So friendly. She forgets that this overpriced ticket I'm buying from her pays her salary and keeps her in fresh tattoos…so an attitude adjustment might be in order bitch. Besides…you think she'd be happy to talk to somebody who speaks English and isn't screaming on her cell phone about what hoes she's gonna beat up when she gets home. $19.50…and that's not even a rush hour ticket. You've got to be kidding me. I found out these conductors make about $70,000 to $80,000 a year. All they do is open the doors when the train comes to a complete stop and punch holes in tickets to cancel them out. What a fucking joke.

8:50pm – We come to our first stop. Manasquan, NJ. It is now quite obvious why my ticket is so expensive. It's to pay for the Spanish lessons the conductors need to be able to communicate with the assload of Hispanic restaurant workers that get on the train. I suddenly feel like I've gotten on the wrong train. I didn't know NJ Transit went to Mexico. And it now smells like stale food and garbage. And for those of you who are now offended because you think I'm saying Hispanic people smell like garbage…don't be so quick to call the ACLU on me. I'm saying it smells like garbage because they just got done taking it out at the restaurant they work at. By the way…I really don't care if I offended you anyway. You weren't on the train. You don't know what it smelled like.

8:57pm – Belmar stop. The majority of the restaurant workers get off here. Ghetto girl is still yelling…but it smells a little better.

9:05pm – Asbury Park stop. Here's where it gets interesting. Asbury Park is where most of the derelicts of the Jersey Shore live. Crack heads, Ex-cons, pimps, hoes…you name it. And sometimes, these scumbags take the train. A wide variety of weirdo's boards the train and some of them sit in my car. My favorite is the guy who gets on and is on his cell phone…him and ghetto girl are now in some odd competition to see who can yell obscenities the loudest. Asbury guy wins. It's so entertaining that I actually take my headphones out very discreetly so I can listen. He's on the phone with his girlfriend. At least, that's the impression I get because he keeps calling her "baby." And he's pissed off at his parole officer because he wants him to get a job. How terrible. Seriously, I don't mind supporting you…no problem. The rest of it isn't really worth repeating. He was just so fucking loud and not even the slightest bit embarrassed about discussing his parole officer so loudly in public. I guess I'm just a prude.

9:20 - We arrive in Long Branch. This is where we have to switch to get on the train that goes into the city. This was oddly uneventful. Long Branch is very similar to Asbury Park and there's usually something entertaining going on here. The only thing worth mentioning was this random guy who had his bike with him and a bag full of clothes…and an I Love You heart balloon tied to his handlebars. How frigin cute. We finally leave Long Branch and I pass out and wake up in Penn Station.

11:00pm – This is when I'm due at work. Officially late. I exit the train and walk upstairs to the subway. The subway trains are now delayed. The express trains are running on the local track. Three different trains are all running on the same track and it still takes 15 fucking minutes for one to get there. Good job MTA…good job.

11:30pm – Starbucks on 67th Street. I order a Grande Fat Free, Sugar Free Cinnamon Latte. It's not the easiest order, but it certainly wasn't the most complicated either. I didn't need anything organic or soy or light foam or stirred gently like some of these other coffee snobs want. The broad working asked me 4 fucking times what I wanted. I WANT A GRANDE FAT FREE, SUGAR FREE CINNAMON LATTE…SOMETIME BEFORE MY SHIFT ENDS PLEASE. What happens to you in life when you can't even make a cup of coffee. Oh, wait, I know. You quit your job and they take 40% of my paycheck to support you and all of your children. I don't mind. As long as they replace you with someone who can handle making a fucking latte.

11:40 – I make it to work and apologize profusely to Travis about being late. And warn him that the subway is fucked up.

Thankfully my ride home was a little better. Oddly enough, my ride in the next night wasn't bad either. Until I go to get on the subway in Penn Station.

Wednesday Night:
9:45pm – Penn Station subway stop. Metro-card machine will not accept my ATM card. I tell the girl in the booth. "So let me guess, you ain't got no money, right," she says to me…giving me that ghetto head shake. I do have some cash…but fuck you sweetheart, now you're not getting it. "No," I respond. She nods at the gate and tells me to go through. A free ride on the subway. I look at it as payback from the cluster fuck I dealt with the day before. I get to work.

Thursday Morning:
6:30am – I put some money on my metrocard and get on the 1 train going downtown. I had to maneuver to another car at first because of some crazy homeless man dancing in the doorway where I try to enter. I finally get situated. We stop at 50th street. We just start moving again when the train slams on the brakes. They hold us in the train for a few minutes and announce there's a problem…they don't elaborate. It's just a "problem." We have to exit the train. Now I'm freaking. This is karma…for me screwing the MTA girl out of money the day before. It's getting late and my NJ Transit train is scheduled to leave at 7:01am. You know it's gonna leave on time the day I get there late. I run back above ground…jump on a bus. The M20. I don't know anything about buses, I check with the driver to make sure we're going to Penn Station. We are. We finally arrive outside Penn Station at 6:59. I shit you not. I run down the sidewalk to the entrance. I jump on the escalator…pushing my way past people standing. I have to run through the station…really running. With my bag slung over my shoulder, iPod on. I am actually bumping into people. I don't care about these people at all. I run to the track where my train is. 7:01…I see the conductor as I approach the nearest open door. She's just about to get on the train. Overpaid bitch. I jump on. I'm breathing heavy. Very heavy. I can barely catch my breath…"Bay Head train?" I ask…"Yeah." She responds. What fucking attitudes. Anyway…all of a sudden, instead of shutting the doors, she steps off the train. There's some sort of problem. We don't leave until almost 7:10. I didn't have to run like a maniac like I did. Hindsight is always 20/20. Slowly I make my way back home. 9:30…I arrive back in Point Pleasant. And I vow that even if we get a fucking blizzard…I am not taking any trains to work. I drive, or I don't go.

I'm really not as angry as I sound.