I have to imagine that, at least for a moment, every baseball fan had a shared thought when news broke of George Steinbrenner’s death.
Wait a minute … That man was mortal?
The Boss
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After seeing that T employees are capable of showing enthusiasm these days – something I hadn’t thought possible after the last few months – I was inspired to make sure the head of my T line (Red) knows that I know that something is seriously wrong. Rather than just complaining about it on my blog (and on many, many, many tweets), why not take advantage of the “Write to the Top” feature on the MBTA website?
I wrote John Hynes, head of the Red Line, this morning. I’ve included the text of that email below. I’ll be letting you know what Mr. Hynes includes in his response. Because there will be a response, right? The T does care about passengers who aren’t Hollywood actors, right?
I’ll keep you posted.
John Hynes
MBTA Red Line Chief
45 High Street, 10th Floor, Boston, MA 02110Dear Mr. Hynes:
As a Red Line commuter, I have been directly affected by the increasing number of delays in service experienced on the Red Line over the course of the last year–particularly by the now daily disruptions experienced in recent months. I’ve been shuttled, I’ve gotten off Ts to walk, I’ve seen my text message inbox flooded with T alerts, and I’ve come to add at least 20 minutes to my travel time “just in case the Red Line dies again.” I’ve listened to T operators say in a bored, disengaged monotone that they apologize for any inconvenience and that there’s another train directly behind.
There is never another train directly behind, Mr. Hynes. We all know this. And yet they say it anyway.
On Saturday evening, however, I did see exemplary Red Line service. Personalized Red Line service. Service that was so hands on and considerate that I wondered if I’d inadvertently walked into another public transportation system–or the Hollywood-ized take on what Red Line service should be.
Turns out, I was half right. The T is willing to step up and take care of passengers … if that passenger happens to be a movie star.
As I wrote in an entry on my blog–which has been picked up by several Boston websites–I was waiting for an inbound Red Line train at the Davis station on Saturday evening when T workers escorted Anna Faris (movie star) and movie extras over to my waiting area and, when the train arrived, onto my car. While it was remarkable to see the manner in which Ms. Faris was treated by the T–kudos, truly– it is incredibly depressing to realize that someone like me, an individual who buys a T pass every month, who utilizes your services at least twice a day every single day, must endure daily inconvenience and delays without even a sincere apology, while your employees bend over backwards so as to make the experience pleasant for an actor who will be leaving Boston at the end of filming.
Not to mention that, given all the T alerts that are texted to me, you couldn’t bother to send me one letting me know that the T was running with delays that evening. Or that the station would be closed the next day.
The MBTA is in serious trouble. It’s been noted, it’s been reported. You know it and I know it. As budgets and services and details are examined, Mr. Hynes, I ask you to think about directing your employees to show one iota of the care and consideration I saw directed at Ms. Faris on Saturday evening toward your regular passengers. You’d be amazed what a little good will and sincerity will do for passenger morale and MTBA support.
Cordially,
Victoria Welch
They traded Ward before he could lead the team to a Cup.
They traded Wideman before he could get his shot at redemption.
But today, they kept Stuart. And that, my friends, is welcome sort of change.
I could tell you about how the first three miles of my race on Sunday were actually downright pleasant – that the skies were overcast and there was a breeze that, coupled with the 9 a.m. start time, helped me forget that I was running on a day expected to reach the 90s. That the sun came out during the loop back, which wound us through the surprisingly quaint town square of Foxborough and past cheering fans waving signs. That there was a glorious saint of a woman who sat on her lawn in a chair, grinning as she squeezed the handle on her hose and sprayed us grateful runners with ice cold water as we moved past.
But I’d rather just tell you about the end.
After six miles, my friend Kim and I (who had wound up running within sight of each other over the course of the entire 1oK) kept telling ourselves to converse a little bit of energy. “Wait for it. Wait for it,” we repeated as we watched the lights and stands of Gillette Stadium grow larger and larger. We held back as we ran past Bill Rodgers, who was cheering on fans near the back entrance to the stadium parking lot. We held back as I tried to find “Crazy Train” on my iPod, settling for “Motownphilly” instead. And we held back as we wound our way around the final bends…
…through Gate 8…
…and as we approached The Helmet.
And then, after slapping the side of The Helmet like we’ve seen them do from our various spots in the stands over the years, Kim and I emerged from the tunnel, arms raised, and then booked it. An all-out, leave-it-on-the-field 50-yard dash where we blew past our fellow runners and raced each other to the end. We crossed the finish line at the same time. Kim unleashed her best Randy Moss and we dropped to make Welker-approved snow angels in the endzone (verdict: awesome, yet scratchy and HOT on the turf in July).
That dash – and 10K that preceded it – left me breathless in the short term. It put me out of commission later in the day, when I took what was supposed to be an hour-long break from barbecue and revelry and fell asleep until 2 a.m. But it was a moment of pure fun and adrenaline in which I had such a sudden spike of runner’s high, feeling strong, powerful, and amazingly alive.
