We can be together, MTA lady!
My subway just got stuck in the tunnel a bit South of 34th St. Station. Twenty-five minutes of non-moving with cranky, frustrated, coffee-smelling commuters this early in the morning is my idea of Hell. I already hate mornings; why, MTA, must you make them worse?
For the first 15 minutes, I could not understand the woman shouting into the intercom. She was probably trying to explain why we were stopped. I don't exactly know, though, because I think I heard something about "an unexplainable fire," but also "toast," which completely threw me off. 17 or so minutes into the ordeal, an eloquent gentleman took the mic to explain that the automatic brakes engaged for no reason, and that they were working to get this train, and those stopped behind us, moving again.
After 20 minutes I think Stockholm Syndrome was kicking in, because I wanted nothing more than to be loved by the MTA woman with the unintelligible voice.
For the first 15 minutes, I could not understand the woman shouting into the intercom. She was probably trying to explain why we were stopped. I don't exactly know, though, because I think I heard something about "an unexplainable fire," but also "toast," which completely threw me off. 17 or so minutes into the ordeal, an eloquent gentleman took the mic to explain that the automatic brakes engaged for no reason, and that they were working to get this train, and those stopped behind us, moving again.
After 20 minutes I think Stockholm Syndrome was kicking in, because I wanted nothing more than to be loved by the MTA woman with the unintelligible voice.