A Terrible Convenience

Before I embark on something of a tirade, let me take a moment to pity the subject of my ire: poor Long Island Rail Road, you are so overworked and underappreciated.  It’s not your fault that you suck.  In fact, compared to other train systems across the country, you’re quite good.  Dear LIRR, you have to understand: I don’t hate you; I just hate everything about you. 

Let’s start with your timetable.  How ever do you manage to run completely opposite to the times that I need you?  I have to be somewhere at 5:00, and you arrive only at 3:45 or 6:15…or even more maddening: 5:05.  Every time without fail, and I’m not the only one to experience this strange phenomenon. 

And, how in the world is it that you stop running certain lines at 11:00PM on New Year’s Eve?  Would it kill you to run a 2AM train on that one night?  I mean, really.  That is the one night where Long Islanders collectively migrate to “the city.”  Why, it’s tradition, LIRR, and you violate that tradition.  Frankly, I find it sickening.  Sickening.   

While we’re on the subject of revolting things that you do, LIRR, let’s talk about your inner workings.  I know that’s personal and, perhaps, a little rude, but it needs to be discussed.  Remember that fire you had in your wiring-system-mainframe-thingamabob (this is all very technical vocabulary, by the way) a couple of summers ago?  No? 

Well, I do.  Do you want to know why I remember, LIRR?  Because I was on the train when that happened.  Yes, I was stranded at Jamaica Station at 1AM with a very bad case of indigestion and people from my high school that I did not wish to interact with.  And, it was all your fault. 

Oh, that’s not fair to you.  It wasn’t your fault that your wiring system hadn’t been updated since the Titanic had been afloat (that’s 1912 in case you don’t watch Downton Abbey).  You must have felt very embarrassed, LIRR, when you learned that the second oldest train wiring system in America was from the Seventies.  That’s right.  The nineteen seventies. 

Have you been updated since that incident, LIRR?  I fear that you haven’t, but who can tell?  Now, let’s talk about the people who ride your darling rails.  I know you can’t help the company keep, but do you know how rude your passengers are?  Collectively, they’re a terror. 

They violate every rule of any good kindergarten classroom.  They push, they shove.  Hands are not kept to themselves.  They certainly do not use their indoor voices, especially when they’re on their phones.  They do not treat others the way they would like to be treated.  And, above all, they do not share.  Believe me, I know; I’m one of your terrible passengers. 

I guess what I’m saying, LIRR, is that you bring out the worst in me, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.  I don’t like the person I become when I’m one of your passengers.  I try to smile at the conductor, but it always turns into a grimace.  I look out the window, and see my reflection superimposed over passing houses and trees.  With a violent force, I remember that I knocked out a toddler for this coveted window seat.  What’s worse, I don’t regret it. 

This is what you do to me, LIRR.  You make me obsessed with reaching connecting trains, so much so that all human connections are forgotten.  You upset my already sensitive stamina.  And above all, you make me obscenely cranky.  You are the bane of a commuter’s existence, and yet you are oh so necessary, because without you I would have to drive through Manhattan.  Such a task is for the strong and I, sadly, am weak.

So, I guess what I’m saying, LIRR, is that I don’t hate you; I just hate that I need you.