Tales from the T!!
This is a collection of stories my friends have experienced on the Massachusetts Transportation System. (Or as we call it, the "T") Not only is this a collection of stories, but a good explanation of why I avoid using public transportation at all cost.
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So yesterday, I'm taking the red line into work like I always do at 8 in the morning. I'm sitting there minding my own business when this ugly women, in the 40's or 50's, comes on the train in nothing but her underwear and a pair of green converse (like bouff's!). She started yelling over and over again, "I had a yeast infection........I GOT CUNTS" over and over and over. I promptly got out of my seat and off the train at the next stop.
-K. McLaughlin
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Ryan and I had an encounter with a very creepy man in a long, grey trench coat last Friday. He had a shaved head, and big, thick glasses. He was also wearing a purple turtleneck under the coat. He stood right in front of Ryan and stared and gave him creepy looks for about 10 minutes.
-JLT
(Response to above story)
Ryan - Oh man was that guy creepy. He had a Hannibal Lecter vibe to him. I was really planning in my head what to do if he lunged at me and tried to bite my face.
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I was on a train when a guy pooped his pants and then ran off at the next stop....this was some sweaty mid-aged guy.... he was squeezing this legs together and holding his ass as he ran off the train
M. Hart
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There was a guy who got on at the Harvard Ave. stop a couple of months back. You could just see the crazy look in his eye. He sat down next to this girl who was clearly a BU student (carbon copy blonde, big sunglasses, bag with books in it, etc.) She was staring out the window. The guy asked her in a voice loud enough for pretty much the whole train to hear: "What are you thinking about? Is there something bothering you?" She replied with "No, I'm fine." He then followed up with "OK, I want to make sure you're OK because sometimes you never know..." and in the middle of this sentence the girl got up from her seat and moved to the rear of the train without saying anything. The man stopped talking and kept staring out the window. He was creepy indeed, but I'm still not sure for whom I felt more sorry.
K. McLaughlin
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Have any of you seen the weird couple that take the Green Line sometimes? They are both pretty fat and dressed in quasi-homeless garb (sweatshirts, sweatpants, carrying plastic bags, the guy usually has left-over food smeared on his scruffy face). Anyway, they are both clearly mentally challenged. The woman constantly berates the man calling him "stupid" "idiot" "useless" "why are you so dumb?" etc. It's pretty funny actually. She is brutal to this guy and he just smiles and sometimes falls asleep.
JTL
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Well gentleman, God must have been smiling down on me today, because the quest is over. It all started this morning with the apex/crescendo/zenith of my day, nay my life, occurring at the Boylston Street stop. My day started off with the usual hodgepodge of morning activities. I woke up, took a shower, bought coffee, and headed onto the C-line. Since it was a Thursday, I awoke without the general malaise that one would associate with a normal week day. Because of this, I believe that my mind was prepared for something special, and oh my friends, something special truly happened. As I was approaching the Boylston transit stop, I was engulfed in the hilarities of Tucker Max's life. The train stopped and the doors swung open. I, paying little attention to my surroundings, continued to read my booked when I hear a slight commotion as one of the commuters entered the train. [Side note: I was sitting right next to the doors on one of those single chairs that stare directly across the entrance doors at another single chair.] I look up from my book to see a gorgeous retard, that is right, a gorgeous retard that was looking everywhere but straight ahead, the bobble head routine. She was fucking hot! Of course she was with her mother, a fifty year old smoking hot mommy, who was consoling her hot retarded child. This chick had long slender legs, beautiful subtle breast, and a very attractive face, minus the blank retarded stare. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was fixated on her and her hot mom. Sadly, I had to get off the train at the next exit, Park Street, so I couldn't fully bask in the awesomeness of this moment. In the end, I have learned a valued lesson and that is that hot retards exist and aren't just photoshopped on the computer.
M. Fitzgerald
