contentAs I settled into my seat, exhausted, I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise and confusion that surrounded me. By the next stop, the train was packed and I was relieved to be sitting.
I smirked to myself as the conductor announced that my train was going to be an express to Harvard Square, which meant we would bypass 3 stops. Anyone who needed those stops had to get out at the next one, which would mean most of the passengers.
The state of confusion and chaos that seems to arrise whenever a train is going to be an express always makes me laugh. "Wait... what? Harvard? What about Central? I don't understand... Should I get out at Park Street...?"
Then people shove one another, trying to get close to the doors. Ah... the joys of mass transit.
"Again, this train is running express to Hahvid," the conductor announced in a thick Boston accent. "This train will nawt stawp at Chahles, Kendall, aw Central. This is an express to Hahvid..."
Amidst the sea of legs, arms, briefcases and courier bags that were eye level with me in my seated position, the little face of a young girl popped out. She looked at me a moment before saying to me very seriously, "This train is going to Howard. It's an express to Howard."
I smiled at her. She nodded back at me. "Howard," she repeated, before her mother ushered her off.
Hmph. If anyone has children that are aspiring Public Speakers, Boston is most certainly not the place to set a foundation for proper diction at a young age.
