It's always comforting to know that the ever efficient braintrust of the Metropolitan Transit Authority strive to go above and beyond in putting New Yorkers' needs first. Still basking in the afterglow of a $928 million windfall according to reports released from state comptroller Alan Hevesi (a difference of $95 million from their prior projections in July), what's next on the MTA's agenda for straphangers? More fines, of course! Just approved last Thursday in an unanimous vote among board members are $25 citations for the egregious offense of drinking coffee as well as changing cars mid-ride to the tune of $75. Caught wearing Rollerblades underground? That'll be $100, please.

The MTA left in place an existing ban on open containers and voted in favor of a $25 fine on the activity. The rule only applies to open containers on subways, and does not extend to platforms.

"If you're walking around with a steaming hot coffee on the 5 or the 4 train at 8:30 a.m., I would hope to hell the cop would give you a summons because you have no right to do that. It's not right and it's not courteous to your fellow passengers," said MTA Chairman Peter Kalikow.

"You still can't bring an open container and drink on the subway, as you couldn't in 1960, in 1950, in all the other years," said Kalikow.

So, just to be sure I've gotten this straight....it's peachy keen to be held hostage in a subway car with broken A/C, panhandlers shilling for spare change, evangelical apostles sent to spread the word that the world's gonna end because God sent a Blackberry message with the exact date, the stench of garbage dragged in shopping carts from the homeless and your garden variety psychos lurking among us all because of antiquated rules that now deem importance by the NYPD.

Well, to Peter Kalikow & Co., I offer a few of my personal pet peeves to the bargaining table which should merit compensatory recoups since they rely on a little thing you guys aren't too acquainted with and doesn't come a dime a dozen. Common fucking sense.

1. Future squeegie washers who disturb a fleeting moment of complex simplicity to request handouts because they're "not trying to raise money for no basketball team, school uniforms, etc., but to keep some money in their pocket for themselves to stay out of trouble" while doing backflips and the Harlem shake to blaring Neptunes beats should be tagged with flexicuffs at first glance of the incoming boombox. No questions asked.
2. Hefty motherfuckers who know good and goddamn well they require 2 seats need to have $4 deducted from their MetroCards right off the top. I can't tell you how many times I've been on the receiving end of some oompa loompa's hips rolling over onto me due to the "mind over matter" philosophy being taken a bit too literally.
3. Attention brothas: I know most of you are under the impression that you're carrying an anaconda in between your legs, but perception clearly isn't reality. There is no need to have your legs wide open in the ThighMaster position the entire time. I've done involuntary Kegels simply because the asshole next to me is contorting my lower body in more compromising positions than a pretzel.
4. To my Asian brethren, I got love for ya'll since those $1 batteries have been the hookup since '92, but a word to the wise...when you have over 3 plastic bags of produce, you'll be surcharged for the extras.
5. Can we please enforce a "three swipes and you're out" mandate which would be just desserts for the clueless wonders who can't keep track of their MetroCard balance? To the back of the line at crowded turnstiles with a line snaking up the stairs you go! Pole leaners, who deprive others from holding on while the train's swerving and screeching into the next stop at breakneck speed, would be forced off the train, or forced to ride in the middle of the car without anything or anyone to grip for balance. Loud talkers would be paired up next to anyone with their trap wide open, serenading riders with snores.

I speak for the common commuter who has had to endure the obligatory tourist with a nonexistent sense of direction who literally force you to get well acquainted with the number of facial pores visible since they'll drape themselves over you to decipher 7th Avenue vs. Lexington when the subway map is smack dab behind you. Are my demands unreasonable? Hardly, I'd say. Now stand clear of the closing doors and let's negotiate these terms, shall we?

Labels: rants