flying plastic saloon doors
I will miss the metal turnstiles at Porter Station,
and the satisfying pivot hip check that would turn them,
perfected after years of practice,
that dull metal thud - and millisecond pause before they lumbered around like an old fashioned safe,
that would signal the end of the train commute - the finish line after 2 trains stuffed to the gills with workers and students and 2 slow motion escalators,
and the imaginary demarcation between the work world and the hours before it all began again,
replaced by the Star Trek like automated whurr of the Charlie Ticket flying plastic saloon doors
3 comments:
We went into Boston Friday night, and it had been a long time since I've ridden the T. Those doors scared me -- and I miss tokens rather than the declining-balance Charlie Ticket. Ah well.
On an unrelated note: You going to the reunion, Bret? A couple of people have asked me, but we're not sure if we're going to go.
Hey Christine - not sure about the reunion. It was ok last time - but somehwat akward for the first 15 minutes and when everybody was deciding where to sit it sort of reminded of the cafeteria.
I went to NYC over the weekend but did not ride the subway. I rode a bus from te MET back to midtown and this huge guy had his shoe soff and was picking at his blister filled feet that had 3/4 inch toe nails. Ugh.
Not sure about the reunion. Might be too tempting to get drunk and try to run the cross sountyr course again.
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