Welcome to my 100th blog post!

This probably wouldn't be a big deal if I updated my blog on a semi-regular basis, and I'm ashamed to say that it's also getting pretty close to my one-year blogiversary. Two things about this are sad: 1) There are 365 days in a year, and I've only just now reached 100 posts, and 2) I just used the term blogiversary.

Anyway. I've now become one of the Orange Line denizens who travels to and from the city every day. I mean, I've always taken the Orange Line to get to work, but I used to work out in the burbs, which meant traveling AWAY from the city. Away from city=pleasant, relaxing ride. Toward city=hellish stench of humanity PEOPLE GET OUT OF MY FACE. For those of you not familiar with the Orange Line, what this means is that you spend 30-40 minutes of your morning and evening squished up against a total stranger(s), usually with one arm sticking out awkardly at various angles so as to grasp any stable object in order to stay upright and avoid falling over onto someone's lap as the train lurches down the tracks. Additionally, taking the Orange Line, as opposed to one of the other many lines that also runs through downtown, means you are riding the most crowded train known to man, and it is probably double the actual recommended safe occupancy of the train. It also means that I spend a good deal of time shoving people out of my way as I attempt to deboard the train, only occasionally muttering, "Excuse me," in an exasperated tone when someone clearly isn't moving aside fast enough to let me through.

All of this puts me in a very bad mood. Last Thursday really took the cake, though. On my way home the trains were delayed, as naturally they would be since I'd had a bad day and all I wanted was to get home, and therefore all the forces of nature did everything in their power to prevent me from achieving this goal. When the next train finally did arrive, the people coming off the train took so freakin' long to deboard that hardly anyone (and there was quite a crowd waiting by that point) could get onto the train before the doors closed. This happened twice - a train would come, people would pour off it in a never-ending stream, and only a handful of those waiting would manage to squeeze their way on before the driver sped off again. What may not be readily apparent is that the driver can actually control when the doors close. So basically, these drivers were just being assholes. As if there isn't enough trauma and strife in the world, we now have to put up with asshole subway train drivers who seem to enjoy making everyone's commute even more hellish than it already is. THANKS A LOT, ASSHOLES.

And since I'm on the subject of things I hate about the subway, how about those people who insist, no matter what you might do to get around them, on getting in your way and doing so in a very SLOOOOW and MEEEEEEAAAAAAAANNNNNNNDERING manner. I'm ashamed to say, I've come dangerously close to physically shoving someone out of my way when all other tactics have failed. Don't even get me started on the toursists who stand on the left side of the escalator like giant, slow-witted cows, looking very pleased with themselves as those of us in a hurry screech to a halt behind them, or those families with five little kids who mystery refuse to ride the elevator and who force their children to stand on the left for the entire length of the escalator, thus ensuring that an angry mob of commuters will clot up behind them and bolt past them in a show of passive-aggressive rudeness once they reach the bottom.

Ah, the joys of riding the subway, they are many. I mean, I do appreciate not having to drive my car to work, but is being transported by cattle-car really the only viable option in a thriving city with some of the best minds in the country? Surely this is something we can work on.

OK, I'm done complaining (for now). I'd like to send you off with this great link. Enjoy.