A letter to commuter train officials

Dear Sirs and Madams,


I would like to express my strong disapproval of several changes recently implemented on my line. These changes have severely interrupted the ability of your passengers to operate on autopilot when boarding your trains. On the morning train, for example, many of us stand in the same exact location on the platform waiting for the train to arrive (if you look closely, you may be able to see the imprint of our various shoes in "our" spots). This is because we know, after months or even years of riding this train, precisely where the train is going to stop, and how many steps it is to the closest door of entry. 


Why, then, have your drivers begun messing up our perfectly choreographed formation by stopping a half-car further up than previously, forcing us to a) look back and forth from the door in the front of the car to the door in the back of the car, b) calculate which is closer and which seems to be the less popular choice, and then c) shuffle several feet to whichever door the person in front of us is going to? As you can see, this requires the simultaneous operation of gazillions of brain cells and our conscious will to move, which most of us simply do not have at our disposal when it is not even light yet in the morning.


Another alarming trend is that, after months of arriving several minutes late, the morning train has, without any warning whatsoever, begun arriving on time. This has forced many of us to actually leave the house on time, which I'm sure you can appreciate is quite disruptive to our morning routines. Perhaps, to ease this burden on us, instead of sending text messages that tell us when the train will be delayed, you could instead send messages such as "The train will be arriving on time today. We regret any inconvenience this may cause."


But the changes instituted on the morning train pale in comparison to what we have been facing in the evening. Previously, the train has consisted of a single-level car in the front, another in the back, and several double-level cars in the middle. Now, the train resembles a child's string of beads, with alternating beads: single, double, single, double, etc. Is this because, perhaps, you recently hired someone who is obsessed with order and pattern? If so, please take the earliest opportunity to transfer this person to some other position, preferably one in another state.


This new arrangement of cars, while perhaps aesthetically pleasing, has severely disrupted our usual routines. In the past, for instance, we have always been able to board, say, the fourth car from the rear. This is OUR car. We know exactly where it is. There is no thinking involved. NOW, however, with this mixing of single and double levels and fewer seats, we have no idea WHERE to get on. Start at the back and keep walking forward? Start somewhere in the middle? It taxes the brain overly much, and distinctly goes against the sage advice of the great philosopher Abraham Franklin,* who said, "Too much thought destroys brain cells."


(*An obscure but very wise common descendant of Abraham Lincoln and Benjamin Franklin. He also declared, "Let them eat chocolate!")


Another complaint has to do with the recent time change, which has resulted in the evening commute taking place almost entirely in darkness. While this is, perhaps, not entirely your fault -- although I would not be surprised to know that you had a hand in it somehow -- nevertheless you have made it a little more difficult in one respect. 


Before, when it was still light out, your conductors would make several announcements about each upcoming stop to allow passengers time to ready themselves to disembark. Now that it is dark, and we have no idea where we are or how close we might be to the next stop, suddenly the conductors have become very secretive about when and where the train will be stopping. Announcements are now made as an afterthought: "Thank you for traveling on this train and oh, by the way, that was Seabrook we just stopped at."


I hope that you will seriously consider reversing these policies, which will no doubt result in far happier passengers. In the meantime, I remain your faithful, brain cell-challenged, ever-tardy passenger.