Rage Rage (Against the Dying of the M)

Well, after a relaxing long weekend full of highlighting the glories of NYC (I took Friday off to show my older sister & brother-in-law around town), yesterday underlined the pitfalls of city dwelling with a big fat jumbo-sized Sharpie.

That's right, I'm talking about the massive MTA service cuts that went into effect yesterday. I knew they were coming. On Sunday, I noticed the new subway maps everywhere. But I did not look at them closely until last night, when I was trying to figure out how you would distinguish between a Williamsburg-bound M train and a Bay Ridge-bound M train if the M is now going to Queens. It was then that I discovered that there is no more Bay Ridge-bound M train. They gave my train to Queens.

I know what you're thinking. I still have the R train, don't I? The M was infrequent and didn't run on the weekends, but now that it's gone, I realize how handy it was in bringing me to my transfer stop every morning. I start work at 9:30, a bit of an odd hour, so there usually aren't many other people at my subway platform when I arrive in the mornings; maybe twenty tops. The past two mornings, the platform was crowded with people, and there were no seats on a train which was usually half empty at that time of morning. And when I got to Atlantic Ave/Pacific Street, the crowds on the platform were also much thicker than usual. This morning, as I got off of the R train, I observed a stuffed-to-the-gills D across the platform. Ordinarily it would have been letting on transferring passengers like myself, but this train was ordered to wait with its doors closed until it could move again. I had to wait for a not-quite-as-stuffed N. The train crept the whole way over the bridge due to congestion, and meanwhile, I was struggling not to make physical contact with other passengers. It wasn't exactly on the level of the 4-5-6 at 8:30 am, but it was still twice as crowded as I am accustomed to. Typically I am never forced to stand so close to another passenger on my morning commute that I am in danger of brushing up against him or her when the train jostles me. It was tolerable. But it's not going to be that way anymore.

I marvel at how I could have been unprepared for this. It was in the news, but somehow I did not understand that my train was being taken away. Could the MTA not have spared a little extra cash to post some signs to the effect of "Hey people who ride this train, just a heads up that on Monday, you won't be able to anymore?" (Judging from the MTA's unbelievable pile of debt, I guess not.) Maybe they should have thought of that before carving up a huge chunk of 2nd Ave with those incredibly expensive machines that bore tunnels through bedrock.

Some made merry by holding funerals for the fallen subway lines and getting drunk illegally on the last ride of the W train, but yesterday, no one was celebrating, except maybe MTA execs who have pulled another fast one on us. No public forums, protests, or political action could have held this back any longer. Why? Because we're all at their mercy when we want to get to work.

This would be a good time to consider taking up alternative forms of transportation, except that I am still traumatized by the terrible bike accident I witnessed. (By the way, earlier this week, my husband came home with a mountain bike. I am still insisting that he buy a helmet.) But when you live in the outer boroughs, your choices are pretty limited. The kicker is that we will all be paying at least 7.5% more for our decreased level of service by next year. I was so mad this morning, I actually took down the addresses of my local representatives. I may even do some angry-letter-writing, if I get around to it.

Because that's going to have a huuuuge effect, I know. Still, I need some avenue for this seething rage. I think it would be really great if we designated one day as a mass transit boycott (preferably on the day my monthly pass expires). What would it be like if the trains and buses were running around town totally empty of passengers? Would that drive the point home?

No, it wouldn't, and do you know why? Because New Yorkers don't care enough about transit cuts to miss a day of work or maybe walk. We just accept our fate with a shrug and bitterly complain the whole way to and from work. Personally, every time I walk onto a crowded train, I contemplate moving somewhere, anywhere else, but the world of driving just doesn't appeal to me. I like to look up from my book and peer out over the East River every morning as I cross the Manhattan Bridge. It's just that the trains are too crowded to see out the windows now.