TheMerrillShow

Taking the 8:14pm Commuter Rail from Lawrence to Boston is awesome.

Everyday, we hold our collective breath. We silently pray it is not TOO late: 15 minutes past time is about normal.  If it hits 25 minutes past time, we start to worry.  I have done this for over half a year, waiting mainly one stop inbound in Andover (I’m doing Lawrence during the cold weather becauses it has heated indoor waiting areas, whereas Andover’s station only has a roof), and the magic number is 35.

Everyday is a chance at adventure. At Andover station, if it running 35 minutes late, my experience has been it WILL be an hour late.  The Haverhill rail line shares one track in that area for inbound and outbound, so if my inbound ride does not show before this point, it has missed a window of opportunity and is forced to wait while two outbound trains flush out.  The waiting happens one of two ways.  It either hangs out just beyond Lawrence station, in teasingly plain view of the eager inbounders, or it arrives a good 40 minutes late to Lawrence, picks everybody up, and then rolls BACKWARDS to its waiting spot before eventually arriving in Andover, five minutes away, 25 minutes later.

Everyday, inbounders bond and friendships form. If it is an hour late, which happened once a fortnight during the fall, it was usually engine trouble.  A handful of times, the train would arrive without heat working and pitch dark.  Save for our cell phone lights, the relative quiet added to a strangely romantic ride back to Boston.  I meet and chat with young mothers, their kids, guys who talk to animals (they tell the best stories), folks who just got out of jail, working professionals, students who can juggle while riding their bike, technicians who just got on facebook, teenage couples going to a party, Celtics/Bruins/RedSox fans going to a game, flamenco-dancing flautist-equestrians.

Everyday, we say goodbye knowing tomorrow’s train will be late. We whine a little, we laugh at the newbies as they learn of the train’s characteristic tardiness on this line, at this time.  We have learned to deal with the reality – and our choice – of taking the train on that line, at that time.  Some use “don’t sweat the small stuff”, I use something else, from my Dad: “comes with the territory”.

This entry was posted on Friday, February 13th, 2009 at 11:34 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.