“Top Ten Tuesdays: Top Ten MBTA Transit Travelers One Encounters in Boston”

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“Dirty City” © C.P. Hickey

Here is a list of the Top Ten MBTA Transit Travelers One Encounters In Boston

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“The Mob” © C.P. Hickey

10. The Not Me – most people you encounter on public transit are of “The Not Me” variety. They do not want to have anything to do with you. In fact, someone could be bleeding on the floor below them, and they will continue to stare straight ahead off into the distance. This is aided most times by the application of earbuds drowning out the noise. They know what’s going on, but believe if they don’t look directly at it, then it really isn’t happening. See something, pretend you don’t see it, and say nothing is their motto.

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“Not Me” © C.P. Hickey

9. The Doorstopper – these people are of a special breed. Yes, I get that you are cold and that you don’t like exposure to the elements. Yes, for Chrissakes, the Starks were right about winter coming. But, as for that, most people don’t like these things and are not so self-absorbed in the practice of making a public space their own personal barrier to nature. Where these folks shine is in encumbering the small amount of space just outside of  station entrances or at the top of escalators. Folks, let me be the first to say, “Get out of the damn way!” Seriously, someone could get badly hurt as you hovel inside the spaces that are required for safe escalator egress. Suck it up, stop being a turd, step out into the world.

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“Doorstoppers” © C.P. Hickey

8. The Glazed Phone Nut– this pertains to almost all weary MBTA Transit Travelers. “The Glazed Phone Nuts” are everywhere.  “The Glazed Phone Nut” differs from “The Not Me,” in that a mobile device has captured their soul, and their indifference is totally passive. The only way these folks would know if there was an emergency on the transit they are riding would be if a push notification came across their screen letting them know something was happening. Even then, they would still be hard pressed to pull their faces away from the black hole gravity they hold in their palms. Aldous Huxley called it Soma, we call it being connected. Addiction has many forms, but this self-abuse is particularly hard to escape.

Glazed Phone Nut

“Glazed Phone Nut” © C.P. Hickey

7. The Space Invader– space, or lack thereof is a harsh reality when riding public transit. Either your all up in someone’s face and hips with a backpack and an umbrella poking into your back, or your space is involuntarily usurped by people that tend to misunderstand the amount of space that is socially acceptable and allowed by quantum mechanics. To these folks, I implore you to please be cognizant that you are among other people that require some modicum of comfort in commuting from home to work. If I have to contort into the Downward Dog when traveling from Oak Grove to Forest Hills for more than a cool two minutes, I believe my spine will stay permanently misaligned, and I’ll be doomed to scurry around Middle Earth looking for Bilbo and Frodo.

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6. The Thinker – these folks carry the weight of the world on their shoulders and face. I envy them their concentration while amidst throngs of ne’er-do-wells. I like to think that they are thinking of creative ways in which to exact pain and discomfort on all others on this list. A man can dream. The struggle is real people, if you spot a thinker on your commute, just stand out of the way and let them ponder. The heavy lifting needs to be done and these are just the folks to do it.

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“The Thinker” © C.P. Hickey

5. The Stinker – you know these folks. Harry Halitosis, Fiona FoulFeet, Barry Bungsweat. All strategically placed throughout your summer commute, so as to remind you of how for granted we take working air conditioning. These are sophisticated individuals that prefer to practice abstinence of cleanliness over hygiene. They don’t give a fug, and in most cases are proud to spread their essence. As a seasoned rider myself, the best advice I can give is to not breathe through your nose. Eventually, they will leave the train, and three stops after that exit, their cloud will dissipate.

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“The Stinker” © C.P. Hickey

4. The Meditator – this is the traveler you need to take notes on. “The Meditator” is one Zen cat, and can ride the rails or roads under any circumstances with complete and total consciousness. They simple close their eyes and breathe. Nothing breaks their stride. I am actively trying to learn to lessen the slings and arrows of an outrageous commute, but when I breathe the fumes of “The Stinker” (see #5) I lose all concentration. Here’s to turning more transit time into Transcendental Transit.

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“The Meditator” © C.P. Hickey

3. The Spreader– perhaps I have an inherent bias, but in all the hoopla about “Manspreading”, I’ve yet to see  in men the general lack of consideration for space that the fairer sex exhibits on public transit. Surely, we can all agree to a more conservative arrangement for hauling all worldly possessions from point A to point B when using public transit. Here’s a tip: if you need a pack mule to lug your belongings from home to work, then you just might be indecisive or living a life of material excess.  You are not allowed to have a briefcase, a backpack, a canvass bag full of shoes and gym wear, a cake tent or muffing tote, a yoga mat, a diorama, a 5″ binder, and a small chest full of costume jewelry. And you most certainly cannot use two seats to spread it all out.

“You stole fizzy lifting drinks! Good day!”

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“Seat Hog” © C.P. Hickey

2. The Sweet Potato Ride – sharing is a nice thing, unless it is the pungent smell of food that no one else can enjoy, and is accompanied by the misfortune of listening to your slurping, lip-smacking, open-mouth chewing, and greasy finger feeding frenzy. If you eat fish, garlic-based dishes, or mystery meats while commuting, you are a Paula Abdul Straight Up Creature.

SKEEVATSAH!

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“Sweet Potato Spreader” © C.P. Hickey

1. The Yankee Clipper – my least favorite traveler by a large margin, has to be “The Yankee Clipper.” The outright gall. No self-awareness. A total violation of the social contract. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness does not include poorly thought out grooming activity whereby I am subjected to being hit in the face with dirty DNA samples of your funky fingernails. The audible clips and grunts that accompany the action are also clear violations. Friends, fellow citizens, manicure enthusiasts, please refrain from such atrocities.

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“Yankee Clipper” © C.P. Hickey

Bonus Material:

0. The Snoozer – the afflicted. Either a hard day’s night, opioid abuse, or straight up nappers. If there ever was a case for letting sleeping dogs lie, these folks embody it. Don’t provoke “The Snoozer,” you’ll regret it to your dying day.

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“The Sleeper” © C.P. Hickey

-1. The Mad Hatter – aggressive, aloof, unhinged, or a combination of all three, this traveler gets a dishonorable mention for making everyone’s trip miserable. It’s complete Russian Roulette when you encounter this character. You either leave enlightened or in need of a tourniquet. You’d do well to become a “Not Me” or “The Snoozer” when encountering this Stranger Danger.

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“The Mad Hatter” © C.P. Hickey

“Cattle Train, Cattle Train”

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“The Out Crowd” © C.P. Hickey 2013

 

“Cattle Train, Cattle Train”

Cattle Train! Cattle Train!

My life’s refrain.

Can someone commute my commuter pain?

Oh, how I disdain,

this daily pain.

I can’t sustain,

and must complain.

It’s such a drain.

Fucking insane!

Profane?

Let me explain.

What’s plainly plain:

Humans behave,

less humane,

when waiting for the Cattle Train.

It’s worse in the rain.

If there’s a delay,

it puts a strain,

on our collective brain.

Because, the Cattle Train,

can’t possibly contain,

all the bane,

pertaining to this mortal plane.

Take for instance, Elaine.

You know, the girl from Spain.

Over there leaning on a cane.

She seems inane,

but, she’s just arcane.

Today she suffers a harsh migraine.

And will not feign the pain,

that the rain causes her curly mane.

While she awaits the Cattle Train,

wrapped in cellophane,

in pouring rain.

Strain.

Pain.

Remain.

Or take that prick from Maine.

What’s his name?

Blaine?

His breath smells of methane.

Humming a neat quatrain.

Standing in the rain.

Waiting for the Cattle Train.

Strain.

Pain.

Maintain.

Do you think those that live in Des Plaines deal with such constraints?

One obtains small gains while one abstains from complaints about the Cattle Train.

But, the pain is hard to sustain.

It’s no gravy train.

Ask Lorraine,

sucking on that candy cane.

She survived September’s hurricane.

Only to remain,

waiting for the Cattle Train.

Strain.

Pain.

Stained.

Cattle Train! Cattle Train!

My life’s refrain.

Can someone commute my commuter pain?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Perceived Slights”

“Perceived Slights”

Look at you over there.

Seething.

Angry at every turn.

Can you see yourself?

You’re ridiculous.

Your fat equestrian pants thighs squeezing into the last remaining seat.

You flippantly look at the meek gentleman sitting beside you.

You know, the one who’s rail thin.

Your body is invading his space.

You exceed the seat you squeezed into.

One time, you read a snarky article in some snarky magazine, about “man spreading”.

You believe that he is at fault.

But I’ve seen pita bread thicker’n him.

Your furrowed brow, your audible tut.

You’re invading the space of everyone on the train.

You’re “perceived slight spreading”.

Keep your overtly aggressive gestures to yourself, as well as your veiled passive aggressive ones.

Your energy is toxic.

I can’t possibly know what has helped you to arrive here in this moment.

But as I observe you, I can tell it likely that all the things you react to negatively, are decidedly innocuous until you put your charming mind around them.

Relax.

The gentleman beside you, a registered stoic, has ridden in silence, despite the discomfort of your polyester thigh rubbing his knee every time you jostle to dramatize your perceived slight.

Your stop is coming up.

Better get yourself ready to shake your head because only one half of the doors will open upon exiting.

Also, you will be inconvenienced by those standing to the right on the escalator, as you try to squeeze by.

Lastly, as your bring your morning coffee to your lips, you will shake an admonishing fist in the air at some imagined deity, as the cream the barista put in the cup curdled.

Soured.

Much like you.

“Appropriate Arrival”

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ProCrasstheNation

Written while on an Elevated train heading into The Loop searching for a job in Chicago.  Circa 2006.

“Appropriate Arrival”
By Christopher Hickey

Stop!
Is this the place?
Confusion reigns,
Inbound trains.
Destination unknown.

Traveling light, with a heavy heart.
Where to start?
Difficulties unexpected.
Expel my doubts,
Anorexic?
No.
They’re still here.

Resume your life.
Resume is your life.
Paper defines worth.
Can I exist without succinct definition?
Probably not.

Having tried to fail, I succeed.
Failing to succeed, champions my complacency.
Walking to stand still.
Preying on hope.
Waiting for good dough.

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