We are going off the rails for a spell after today to partake in typical holiday activities.
We leave you with The Inevitable Twas the Night Before Christmas parody, which we first ran in 2008.
Happy holidays, or, as we used to say, Merry Christmas!
Twas the night before Christmas, When all through the train
Metro-North riders were shaking off sleet, snow and rain
Their coats were slung on the racks high above
Their laptops placed right up there with love
The riders pecked at their phones and Blackberries
Shooting inane texts to every Tom, Dick and Harrys.
“Tickets please!” yelled the conductor as he reached for our passes
For those who couldn’t find them, he mumbled, “Dumbasses.”
At the front of the train there arose such commotion
We craned our necks to see what impeded locomotion
It was another train, lounging, ahead on the track
We wondered how long it would set us back.
“Sorry for the delay,” said the driver, “we’ll be moving soon.”
We sighed and stared out at the glowing half-moon.
When what, to my irritated mood I did see
But a train right behind us, headed toward me!
I told the conductor, who turned with a whirl
His eyes got real wide, he screamed like a girl!
“We’re screwed,” he said. “We’re doomed, we’ll die!”
On a sad stretch of Mott Haven we’ll eternally lie!
He yanked that red brake, the one just for emergency
We all quickly realized his sense of real urgency.
“Get on the floor!” he said. “Go! Get on your tookus!
A train is approaching, prepare for a ruckus!”
We did as he said to, our knees on the muck.
I tried to move over, then realized I was stuck.
We held our breath and waited for the crash
I tossed away my Sam Adams, afraid it would smash.
The conductor, a brave soul, jumped out of the train.
He stood on the tracks, his face streaked with rain.
“Stop it!” he yelled southward. “You must slow down!
Or you’ll knock each one of us all the way to Tarrytown!”
The train, it did lurch as it slammed on the brakes.
It trembled, it quivered, it had a case of the shakes.
The wheels squeaked on the tracks, smoke poured from the engine
The smell of burnt rubber told us something was singein’.
Oh Pleasantville! Oh Chappaqua! Oh dearest Mt. Kisco!
I’m afraid the 5:46 will sooner reach Frisco.
Oh Valhalla! Oh Hawthorne! Oh dreary North White!
We’ll be lucky if we even get home tonight.
We all watched in horror, fearing the conductor would perish.
Still, his bravery was something we’d cherish.
The train kept on skidding, making a deafening whine.
The kind you hear a lot of on the New Haven Line.
It came to a halt just shy of his nose
Its smoking wheels resting atop the man’s toes.
He yanked himself free and let out a sigh
So overjoyed were some riders they started to cry.
The conductor seemed OK as he came back to our train
He seemed to walk without noticeable pain.
His crew members told him to rest at the facility.
And then added, if this was LIRR, you’d get big disability!