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Until this morning, I was getting on the train, settling in (preferably in a left-side* window seat, facing forward) and reading. This morning, one of the other people who rides the van to my office got on right after me and said hello. I shifted forward to sit opposite her (there are a few pairs of facing rows in each Long Island Railroad car), which gave me a bit more legroom, and we talked. We talked all the way, in fact: tea and coffee, travel in different styles (she's fond of cruise ships) and our very different experiences of Paris, languages and the learning thereof. All quite pleasant, and I look forward to riding with her again. We should probably exchange names
This evening, for the second time (in just under three weeks, thus far), the conductor didn't come through to collect tickets. Since I'm using a ten-ride off-peak ticket, this actually saves me money (which it wouldn't if I had a weekly or monthly commuter ticket--there's no off-peak rate for those, so it's not really tempting, especially in a job of uncertain duration). Both times this happened, I was riding near the back of the train. I suspect this is coincidence: I've had my ticket punched a few times when sitting there, and the conductor has on those occasions has reached me well before we got to Penn Station, or even Woodside. I wonder if she's annoyed at her employer, and waging a wildcat one-woman industrial action by not collecting tickets, thus saving herself a little work while costing the railroad a little money (a lot of people on that train do have the monthly tickets).
It occurred to me, yesterday morning, that it's not just that I've been riding the same train long enough that the morning conductor recognizes me. When he punches other people's tickets (or collects single-ride tickets), he rarely says more than "Thank you"; when he gets to me, we say "Good morning" and exchange a couple of sentences. I talk to people, and they talk to me.
The train I take into the city in the evening is an express; invariably, they announce this at Great Neck, list the remaining stops (Shea Stadium if the Mets are there, Woodside, and Penn Station), and usually add "No Flushing Main Street." It doesn't work: there's usually at least one person in my car who has to get off at Woodside and ride back to Flushing or, less often, some other local station. This evening, on the #1 subway, the conductor not only announced that it was making skip stops**, but listed the following two stations twice, then the following three. It was charming that the MTA was making such an effort to make sure I wasn't on the wrong train.
*Because of the orientation of the railroad line, sitting on the left in both directions minimizes sun in my eyes.
**A rather dubious system of saving a few minutes on train lines that lack express tracks, while inconveniencing people who want to travel between stations near the outer end of the line, and anyone who gets distracted.
This evening, for the second time (in just under three weeks, thus far), the conductor didn't come through to collect tickets. Since I'm using a ten-ride off-peak ticket, this actually saves me money (which it wouldn't if I had a weekly or monthly commuter ticket--there's no off-peak rate for those, so it's not really tempting, especially in a job of uncertain duration). Both times this happened, I was riding near the back of the train. I suspect this is coincidence: I've had my ticket punched a few times when sitting there, and the conductor has on those occasions has reached me well before we got to Penn Station, or even Woodside. I wonder if she's annoyed at her employer, and waging a wildcat one-woman industrial action by not collecting tickets, thus saving herself a little work while costing the railroad a little money (a lot of people on that train do have the monthly tickets).
It occurred to me, yesterday morning, that it's not just that I've been riding the same train long enough that the morning conductor recognizes me. When he punches other people's tickets (or collects single-ride tickets), he rarely says more than "Thank you"; when he gets to me, we say "Good morning" and exchange a couple of sentences. I talk to people, and they talk to me.
The train I take into the city in the evening is an express; invariably, they announce this at Great Neck, list the remaining stops (Shea Stadium if the Mets are there, Woodside, and Penn Station), and usually add "No Flushing Main Street." It doesn't work: there's usually at least one person in my car who has to get off at Woodside and ride back to Flushing or, less often, some other local station. This evening, on the #1 subway, the conductor not only announced that it was making skip stops**, but listed the following two stations twice, then the following three. It was charming that the MTA was making such an effort to make sure I wasn't on the wrong train.
*Because of the orientation of the railroad line, sitting on the left in both directions minimizes sun in my eyes.
**A rather dubious system of saving a few minutes on train lines that lack express tracks, while inconveniencing people who want to travel between stations near the outer end of the line, and anyone who gets distracted.
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