When I encounter people that I consider creepy on the train, especially the ones that attempt to talk to me, I really try not to be rude (at least to their face. Because then I end up going and writing about them, which I suppose could be construed as a rude act). In recent days, this has been difficult. When someone sticks out their hand for a handshake, though you really don’t want to shake it, what exactly do you do? Hand shaking is an important part of our culture of meeting people. Articles get written about how people perceive you based on how firm your handshake is. So really, what do you do? If you don’t shake it, you’re just an asshole. And so, in an effort to not be an asshole, I reluctantly shake their hand. And they prolong it as much as possible. And I wonder when the hell I am going to get my hand back. So thus, I am now armed with this:

This morning was one of those times. There is a man at Goldens Bridge I see every once and a while. He always carries a bag, and he never walks properly, he always scuffs his feet on the ground. He reminds me significantly of a friend of my father’s, which may be the only reason why I end up talking to him each time. He very well could be the long lost brother that was dropped on his head as a baby of my father’s friend. Last week I saw him and he did the handshake thing. Oh and he prolonged it as much as possible. But I think you’d also be considered an asshole if you asked for your hand back. Anyways, today we had a conversation on the platform, it went something like this (He’s in bold):

“Hi!”
“Hello, how are you?”
“I got a new jacket”
He then proceeded to stroke the sleeve of the new jacket. At that point, he was about to walk away, but something brought him back.

“So where is your laptop? You don’t have your laptop today?”
“Oh I have it, it is in my bag.”
“So where do you work in White Plains?”
“At FUJIFILM.”
“Oh nice!” At this point he sounded very impressed.
“Let me guess, you file papers there?”
Wait… what? I file papers? That is so wrong. Are you saying that because I am female? Because I look young? Shit. At this point the train is coming, and so I get on. And he disappeared in the crowd of people. I’ll see him again, I know I will. I just hope the next encounter will not be quite as awkward.

Search engines are amazing, magical things. You type stuff in that box, and wow, it just miraculously finds what you need! Provided you type in something relatively normal, that is. Like cats. You can find a crapload of stuff on the internet about cats. Normal people might search for something like that. Even people that are more or less outliers in the whole scheme of “normality” might search for cats. But if you are typing into google, her panties get wet on the train ride, you are a sick bastard.

Apparently I do have readers that are in fact sick bastards. Every few weeks I fire up my statistics log of the site, and I can view what people type into search engines in order to find this blog. And many people find it by typing in Harlem Line. But apparently the number one thing people want to know about is about drinking beer on the trains. Yes, you can drink beer on Metro-North. But it would also be great if instead of leaving your empty bottles/cans on the train, you dispose of them when you get off. I mean, that is a perfectly relevant query. If you are the type of person that wants to get drunk on your way to the city to get drunk. Or to drown your sorrows after work. If you ask google about drinking beer, I don’t think anything bad of you. But if you search google for free videos of asses groped on buses or trains, you are a sick bastard.

The other big thing that people search for and end up finding my site, are about dogs riding Metro-North. They want to know if dogs can ride, and if they are charged a fee in order to ride. Yes, small dogs can ride Metro-North. We do ask that you keep the dog on a leash, or in a crate, as to not disturb other passengers. Service animals are of course, always accepted. There is no fee for a dog to ride, but it is always up to the conductor as to whether your animal is bothering other passengers. I suppose animals riding the train is a valid query. Maybe you were heading down to the ASPCA in the city and were going to adopt a new family member? Certainly you would want said family member to be able to ride the train back home. But if you wanted to know can fat people ride the train?, well, you aren’t a sick bastard, but you are an asshole.

Honest to god, do you think I am kidding? My stats are even arranged into spectacular graphs.

Are you ready to lose a few IQ points? Because I can lead you down into the bowels of civilization, beyond the darkness, beyond the subway rats. These are the layers of hell. And what do people in hell search for on the internet?

i shit trains – You may want to have a doctor look at that
why man places hand down pants while sleeping – I don’t know, but you may want to have a doctor look at that too.
guy shows his butt on the hudson line - Was this man mooning your train as it sped by? Were you hoping there would be pictures?
the fattest guy to show his butt crack on a metro north train seat – were you hoping there would be pictures of that too?
pictures of pee puddles – Please, seriously, please tell me why you would want to see that?
smelly water on mta trains – Yes, I believe that is found in a place that most people call the bathroom. If you have any sense, you don’t even sit anywhere near that car
i saw a pigeon get run over by a bus and i like it – What do you mean by “like”? If you fapped to it, not only are you a sick bastard, but you also are going to straight hell. Would you prefer the aisle or window seat?
get rid of metro north conductor – Were you looking for a how-to book? How to get rid of your conductor in three easy steps, so you can ride the fucking train and not have to pay, currently available for preorder on Amazon.com.
lady pilot fucking lady passengers – Well we do know that some guys have fantasies of doing it with female train conductors on trains. It would be quite logical for people to feel the same way about pilots, right? Though currently I do think there is a general moratorium on joining the mile-high club, because if you are in the plane bathroom for anything more than five minutes, there may be an emergency landing, and you’re going to get cavity searched to determine whether you have any dynamite stuck up your ass. So please folks, stick to trains. But not my train, thanks.

So tell me now… do you feel more stupid than you were five minutes ago? I certainly do. Tell all your friends to google I ride the harlem line, and preferably not other complete bits of sick nonsense. Otherwise I may be forced to inform them that they are a fricken sick bastard.

Around this time of year, the waiting room in White Plains is packed. Nobody wants to wait outside in this cold. And if you like people watching, it is the spot to be. The current “thing” to do is smoke inside. Who wants to smoke outside in the cold? The best way to perform this maneuver is to hide against the wall or window, in an attempt to block anyone from seeing your pipe or cigarette. Nasty smelling chewing tobacco is also popular. Be sure to pull a hood up over yourself and lean over, so nobody can really see what you’re doing.

Nope! Can’t see me! (though we can smell you)

Earlier this morning I saw Johnny walking through the waiting room with a cigarette in hand. Johnny (which is just my nickname for him) is an interesting character. I wouldn’t group him in with some of the other crazies at the station, he seems relatively normal, but he does hang out and smoke with the crazies. And tries to have conversations with them. Which can be interesting, since most of these people are used to only talking to themselves. When not smoking, he also likes to sing. His mind does not retain lyrics well, however, which is where his nickname came about. One amusing morning he kept attempting to sing Johnny B Goode, but after a few words just went back to singing “Go go, Go Johnny go, Go!” over and over again.

Crazy coat guy was hanging about the waiting room yesterday too. With the blue purse. And a questionable looking chain around his neck. Honest to God, I think he stole a hood ornament off of a car, and put it around his neck.

John the dollar man was in the waiting room last night, being questioned by police. And he looked as if he were about to cry. A friend of mine said she actually saw him on a train from Grand Central, walking up the aisle and asking for dollars. It was only a matter of time before somebody complained. Plus White Plains always tends to have a decent size contingent of police officers. And occasionally K-9’s that are probably ready to take a bite out of your leg.

That is about it for crazy stories from the waiting room for today… though I realized that I never mentioned anything about the new year. Honestly I am not much of a fan of holidays. But as the decade came to a close, I thought about some of the “commuting memories” I had of the decade. There were two that stuck out in my mind. Wesley Autrey, the man that saved another man that fell on the subway tracks, and Edwin Gallart, the guy who lost his phone down a Metro-North toilet, and got his arm stuck attempting to retrieve it. Anyone else have any “commuting memories” from the decade? Comment or tweet…

This morning marked the arrival of our new shuttle bus. Within minutes of waiting, however, it seemed as though we were about to get hijacked by a masked man. Upon further scrutiny it seemed as though we were mistaken: it was just another passenger waiting out in the bitter cold for a bus that was going to be late. Typical.

Though the new bus is nice, I must admit. It turns out that the robot man is not our driver, it is some other guy. And we thought the robot drove slow, this as yet un-nicknamed fellow is even slower. Even poor bag lady missed her train (boo hoo). Just the part that the bus no longer picks us up in front of the train station isn’t the most fun. At least there you could wait in the vestibule, which is at times warmer even than the waiting room. Now we get picked up across the street by the Greyhound stop, and thus have no warm place to wait. (and now I deserve a good sarcastic boo hoo for myself).

Another side effect of the cold weather is that the pigeons begin to sneak inside the train station. I had been wondering where they were for a month or so now. Most people think pigeons are dumb, but they have to have some smarts to know they’d rather be inside than out in the cold, and practice amusing methods of getting in. I hadn’t seen any of them inside until today. A pigeon tore through the upstairs waiting room earlier this evening, flying over the people waiting for their (late) trains. Just in general freaking people out. Terrorizing the train riders, though today nobody ran off screaming. One of these times I need to capture that on video.

After writing all of this, it seems that everything is pretty normal over in White Plains. But on the home front, Goldens Bridge, it seems that everything is not. Here we don’t have pigeons, but people terrorizing the station. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is the obnoxious area skater kids, drunk on a weekend with nothing else better to do. They’re probably the ones to blame for the graffiti I mentioned before (and some new graffiti that appeared this afternoon), but maybe not for the weekend’s escapade of kicking in all the glass panels on all the doors of the south side vestibule. Maybe it was creepy, perpetually drunk Santa Claus. Who knows? Though, uhh, Metro-North? I can live with the fact that you never wash the windows. I suppose I will live, albeit a little frustrated, when you don’t clean up the graffiti. But umm… will you at least fix the glass? Is this train station even safe? Should I be carrying mace around on my keychain?

Due to the snow this morning a lot of people ended up leaving work early. I ended up getting a ride to Hawthorne from a coworker. I don’t normally visit that station, just in the few exceptions that snow has caused shuttle bus issues. Unlike what I am used to in Goldens Bridge, a good portion of the platform in Hawthorne is uncovered. So by the time I got there, there was at least an inch of snow covering over everything. Of course I took the opportunity to take some photos as I was waiting for my train.

And when the train passes by, who do I see with his head poking out the window? Peter, the conductor who used to be on my evening train who I haven’t seen in a few months. We caught up on our amusing train stories, and observed an odd woman wearing pajamas sitting a few seats away from me.

There is this crazy guy at White Plains that I nicknamed Mr. Chicago, because he talks to himself and will out of the blue just shout out, “The train to New York is late! … Because it had to stop in CHICAGO, HAHAHA!” Anyways, this woman could totally be his sister. They even look alike! Apparently she liked my hat, but the pompoms bothered her. She kept asking me, “but what are the pompoms for?” She waddled off the train in Katonah, at which point Peter asked me if I knew her. I had never seen her before in my life. Just one more of those interesting and odd people that I encounter on the train…

What a good morning this has turned out to be. Lets just say that I normally take a morning train at 7:13, but today that was the time I woke up, since I forgot to set my alarm. Now I know that the next train from Goldens Bridge leaves at 7:25, since I used to take that train. I am sitting on that 7:25 train right now. I didn’t brush my hair, wash my face, or make my lunch. And I have to pee, very badly. Which probably means I have to use the bathroom in White Plains. Which is just as bad as an outhouse, port-a-potty, or a train bathroom. In fact, I’d probably rather use an M7 bathroom over the bathroom in White Plains.

Anyways, the 7:25 train is one of those diesel trains that come down from Wassaic. Over on My Effing Commute John wrote one day about taking this train, and how nobody on the train talks. If you talk you are a “rookie”. This is totally true, and it amuses me. It is sort of like a different type of people ride these trains as opposed to the trains I am used to taking. I shall dub these people The Wassaic People.

The 7:25 from Goldens Bridge typically looks like this

As previously mentioned, The Wassaic People don’t talk on the train. If you do talk, you will get scowled at. This happened to me when I was carrying on a short conversation with the conductor that came to collect my ticket. Most times, Wassaic people sleep on the train. The good majority do this, though there are a few that read, or are on their laptops. When you exit the train and watch it pass by, you can see all the little heads of the people leaning against the windows, sleeping. I find this amusing.

I was totally taking over the world – playing Risk on my laptop

Wassaic People like to stand in the vestibule. Shoreliner cars have vestibules at the ends of the cars. There is a sign on the door saying passengers are prohibited from standing while the train is in motion, but nobody ever follows warning signs like that. If you are getting off at White Plains, people walk and wait in the vestibule right after Valhalla. You do want to be first to get off, don’t you? On the train I normally take you just sort of stand up and exit about five seconds before the train stops. I can understand this behavior in Grand Central, people want to get out before the rat race begins. But this seems to happen at every stop this train makes. Even the little stops, where perhaps only two people get off.

Wassaic People also tend to be a little more angry than other train riders. Perhaps because they have to sit for a lot longer than the rest of us to get to Grand Central. Perhaps it is the fumes of the diesel engine. This increased little bit of anger or stress is probably why I get scowled at while riding this train. And if you are a new rider, you may be concerned about people taking their anger out against the doors. People kick the doors on these trains. There are buttons toward the bottom of the door that when pressed open the door. Mind you, I said pressed. One does not need to violently kick the door. But many people do.

The kick-me button

This is apparently the Wassaic way. Honestly, I don’t know which is better. I started taking the earlier train so I could at least have no difficulty in finding a seat. But when I take that train, I always get annoyed by the obnoxious school kids, or the occasional person getting drunk on their way to work at Target. I suppose it is an interesting ride either way.

My usual train car, many people had to stand in the open area by the doors, which made it difficult for others to enter and exit

Oh lord, the train last night was a nightmare. But of course, around holiday time, it always is. There was such difficulty getting onto the train at White Plains, because every seat was filled, and there were already people hanging out and standing by the doors, blocking other people from getting on. The only thing I could think of though, is about the cuts that are supposed to be coming for Metro North, and the MTA as a whole. Many trains will run with fewer cars. It has been a persisting rumor that my train would go from ten cars to eight. It hasn’t happened yet. But with these cuts, I can only imagine that it will end up happening quite soon. And I can’t even begin to imagine how horribly packed we’re going to be on an eight car holiday-time train.

Trains were so full, many people stood in the spaces at the front and back of the train cars

I was accidentally smacked in the ass by another passenger (apparently priming me for my upcoming trip to Japan, where I will be riding the rails. Groping happens so frequently there are special female-only trains). And to my left was a man listening to an ipod, and playing air guitar along with it. In front of me were several belligerent twenty-somethings attempting to light the others on fire with cigarette lighters. And the second I found a seat and yanked out my netbook, another passenger began a conversation with me about it, telling me how cute and light it looked. She wanted to know how much memory it had on it, and I said 1gb. She laughed and said that she has a flash drive that is bigger than that. I debated explaining the difference between memory (ram) and hard drive space, but I decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Oh well, that is enough from me. I wish everyone a Happy Holidays! I was supposed to be working today, and I had planned to pass out holiday cards at White Plains to all the other unfortunate people that also had to work on Christmas Eve. Unfortunately (or fortunately) my tooth is hurting terribly (the dentist accidentally broke a tool in my mouth at an appointment on last week. I thank the coworker that had to say to me, “Oh I hope you didn’t get an infection from that) and I have an emergency pre-holiday dentist appointment, and I will be working from home. Anyways, enjoy the holiday, and I will see you next week!

Today the “Cat Girl” morphed into “Rabbit Girl”. It has been so cold lately, that I figured I’d use the rabbit hat, since the long ears can be wrapped around and serve as a scarf. You really know it is cold though, when you get to the station and there isn’t a single soul standing on the platform. They are all hiding in the heated vestibules until the train arrives.

When I got into work I took this photo of my rabbit attire…

A bunch of trains were delayed this morning, my friend ended up getting in late. She said that the conductor told her a woman lost her shoe on the tracks. Anyone know if this is true? If it is, it is kind of lame. Clearly she should have gone to work barefoot. Oh that would be too funny.

On my train however, I had a delightful man that apparently felt like sticking his hand down his pants. I am of the opinion that if you are in public, you should not be doing that. Ever. It is really creepy and nasty. I did actually take a picture of the guy, but after much internal debate, I have chosen to not post that image on the blog.

Anyways, the time I spent on my train (ignoring the man with his hand down his pants) was somewhat eventful, since I decided to write a note to the Connecticut Department of Transportation, regarding the Solari board’s removal next year in New Haven. Apparently a follow up article to the one I posted a few days ago was written on the New Haven Independent site a few days ago. The DOT may consider some sort of compromise, where perhaps the Solari would be saved, but moved to a different place. Or donated to a museum. And the new LCD would make the characteristic flipping noise of the Solari. This “compromise” doesn’t seem like much of a compromise, as it still means the Solari would be moved from its location in the station. If I get any sort of response to the letter I wrote, I will certainly post it here.

Did someone let the nutter bus loose today? Was the local asylum giving out day passes? We had some delightful numbskulls today getting in fights on speakerphone in the waiting room, and an amusing man wearing a New York Times badge that was having difficulty hearing on his phone. Of course when you have difficulty hearing, the only solution is to stick your finger in your ear, find the nearest corner, and go stand facing the corner while resting your head against the wall for support. Can you hear me now?

I like to read and mumble. And then get on my speaker phone and get into arguments, which I am sure everyone loves to hear!

I can’t stand some people’s UGGly boots, but there are some that just make no sense to me at all. These boots are so hairy it looks like an old, brown poodle died on each of your feet.

Every time Santa Claus Man treks up the stairs at Goldens Bridge, he thinks in his mind, ‘I can reach the unreachable star!’ because just going up a flight of stairs when you are that drunk might as well be climbing Mount Everest.

Ah, good old Sleeper Kid. I have to give him credit, at least he isn’t trying to eat and sleep at the same time any more.

I have no pictures for this one, so instead, I will leave you with a story:
This week marks the return of this rather large and obnoxious woman. She rode the shuttle bus last year, and then all of a sudden disappeared. Honestly, I had hoped she got fired. I guess she didn’t, because now she is back. Maybe she just rides the bus in the winter for some odd reason. I don’t really know. Either way, she is dead set about being the first person to get on the bus. She can and will push aside any other person in her way to be the first person on the bus. As witnessed this evening, if she is sitting in a seat and there is another open seat right next to her, her fat ass is not moving an inch. Our building complex now has two shuttle buses, but for the longest time we had only one. Before we got the second bus, extra people would have to stand in the aisles if there were not enough seats. Now that we have two buses, people that don’t fit in the seats on the first bus are required to wait five minutes or so for the other bus to come around. Tonight there was an extra seat on our bus, but because fat ass didn’t want to move her butt, that person had to stand in the bitter cold until the other bus came around. And then she had the audacity to laugh about how cold it was outside, and that she couldn’t have waited another minute out there. When someone said to her that there was one more seat, she said, “Who gon’ fit dere?” If someone can’t fit there next to your fat butt, maybe that is your cue to go on a diet? For the record, as I am sure I will get a flame from someone about that, I do not have a problem with fat people, but I do have a problem with assholes.

The other evening in the White Plains train station my good friend the crazy coat guy was creeping around the waiting room. He was sporting the earrings and big fat chains that day, as well as his green purse, which must be his favorite, since he’s always had it ever since he started experimenting with women’s purses. As he is stalking around, my friend who is a bit afraid of the guy walked away. She’s convinced that there is going to be one day that the guy is going to snap and either push someone off the platform, or push someone down the stairs. And I certainly wouldn’t put it beyond him. And he has in the past just randomly started yelling at me, so he certainly creeps me out.

While this is going on some other random guy swoops in and says to us, “Don’t be skurred! He’s a little slow, but he won’t hurt you! I see the man every day here.” Well yes, I do too, but I wouldn’t go so far to say as he wouldn’t hurt anyone. As the man walked a few steps closer to inform us yet again to not be “skurred” I could quite clearly smell the alcohol he was drinking from a plastic cup. Right man, I trust you. He then informs us, “if he had done anything, I would have beaten him up for you girls.” I’m sure that would end well.

Oh look at that purse!