Dinks and the T

Let me say this: The T will pry the $.25 extra per ride out of my ass, because I am not giving it up easily.

I left the gym last night at 6:30 and walked through the blistering winds to Copley. The Feminine Mystique came out, I leaned against a post, and waited for my C train. One came after about ten minutes, but it was kind of crowded and I didn't feel like cramming myself in. I'll just take the next one, I thought.

God, what an asshole I am. Of course, there were no trains for ten minutes. Then the next one laboriously chugged into the station, letting out a hiss when it stopped, and emitted a puff of smoke. People actually tried to get on the train, which had no branch displayed on the front and was puffing smoke, but of course it went out of service. After another few minutes, the broken train lugged itself off the platform to my slow clap. Then the parade of backed up trains came through, of which the C train brought up the rear. I did get a seat, so I grumpily sat and continued reading.

At Hynes, a scrubby Berklee student got on the train, stood by the door, blocking the large crowd's entry with his guitar backpack and laptop bag. He scowled at the passengers until he figured out that he's a dink, and he moved back. Yeah, I'd love to pay an extra quarter for the pleasure of my commute. I began to wish I'd walked home and suffered frostbite.

We pulled into Coolidge Corner, and the driver expressed the train to Cleveland Circle. I actually was moved enough by this to roll my eyes and murmur "Jesus Christ" and joined the rush to the blustery cold outside. Slowly, the train pulled out and the next one came up. I got back on, face on full bitchface mode, and practically ran to my apartment.

And the dink who blocked the doors at Hynes? Is none other than my dink upstairs neighbor who loves to practice his guitar at loud volume ALL GODDAMN NIGHT. I may not attend Berklee, but I know that amps come with headphone jacks. Learn how to use it, you scrubby, ugly, inconsiderate ass. Yeah, you have long hair, but your Mom stuck up for you when we complained to you about the noise. You are nothing but a spoiled brat, and I am counting the days before I move out and pray the porch collapses during one of your keggers.

I need my vacation. Now. It is too cold to live here right now.