Dear L Train,

February 14, 2011

I know I come off as hungover every time I wear my sunglasses on the train, but today it was necessary. Why? Because I was rolling my eyes so many times I was worried someone would think I was having a seizure. Oh L Train, I wasn’t just rolling my eyes at your lack of punctuality but because of the etiquette of the herd standing on the platform with me. Yes, as soon as your little announcer chirped about an L train arriving on the Man-hat-tan-bound track please stand away from the platform edge there was a massive surge of movement towards that yellow stripe of doom you’re not supposed to stand on. I wanted to put my arms out and brace against the perpetually “wet paint” poles because of how hard people were pushing. I should have just jumped up into the air and let the pressure of people moving forward shove me into the train.

I wish I had known how late you were going to be today. Seriously? I should have stayed at my coffee shop and finished cause if I had known I had the time to do that this morning, I would. Finishing my coffee before I even get on the train is a total no-no, because then I have nothing to make it look like I’m too busy to make eye contact with anyone (sunglasses came in handy AGAIN.) However, I finished my coffee before I could even get on a train, and above all of that, I was stuck standing on the yellow line with an empty coffee cup. I couldn’t even get to a garbage can (one of the two at the Bedford station) if I wanted to.

I also love that you still play those alerts on morning commutes about watching your personal belongings, but I haven’t seen my purse for about 3 minutes because it’s wedged between the two girls standing next to me. They can’t see their purses either. Also, L train, I think I’m pregnant with the baby of maybe one of the two dudes pressed into my back. I’ll send you the bill for the abortion. We’re like a bunch of pencils rubber banded as tight as humanly possible. We’re talkin wrapping that sucker like 4 times around. I could pick up my legs off the ground and nobody would even notice.

L Train, I’d also like you to ask your mom, the MTA, how they get off by charging me over $100 for my monthly pass, and yet you make me late to work regularly. I feel like I’m at an expensive restaurant and I have to ask EVERY TIME my water glass is empty. What sort of bullshit service is this? I can’t even not tip you if I wanted to. You’ve got me by the balls and I can’t even ask for a refund.

Maybe you were on a bender like I was, L Train, but it’s time to get your act together. I’ve had enough of this shit. Seriously? The G train is becoming more dependable than you and THAT is saying something. GET. IT. TOGETHER.




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