A quiet ride into the city on NJT this morning, as the buzz and chill of the train’s air conditioner was a welcome switch in the commutersphere.
 
Most days, our 7:10 a.m. Midtown Direct is quite low volume. As I board each morning with my locals, I usually march to the first car for an empty aisle seat in a three-seater. I pass, and pass up a lot of empty seats on the way, but those seats will be filled at the next and last stop, with the throng of Summit folks geared up for the non-stop “Summit-push.”
 
Here in the first car, most folks are reading paperback novels, quietly dozing, tapping on their laptops, or plugged into the prior night’s TV offering on their fancy new iPad.

I’m trying to break a bad habit of scanning the newspaper over the shoulder of the guy across the aisle.
 
Mostly though it’s quiet. Some small talk, but no cellphone barkers, or poker games, or chatty co-workers to break the lull.

I’m probably not alone, savoring those last few minutes of peace, before we hit the hot, loud and crowded city.

More delays last night on New Jersey Transit, as a fire broke out in Berkeley Heights, stranding passengers to the east, traveling on the Gladstone Line.
 
I had just arrived home from the 5:17 train, when my brother called, hoping for a ride home from Summit, where his Basking Ridge train was terminated. As the Summit station swelled with displaced passengers, NJ Transit announced that shuttle buses would arrive to allow passengers to complete their homeward commute.
 
The fire occurred at the restaurant Mama’s Caboose, which one local paper described as a local “landmark.”

Alternative Press reports:

Firefighters arriving on the scene encountered a “significant fire and heavy smoke on arrival,” according to Battalion Chief Giacco of the Berkeley Heights Fire Department. Giacco said, “It was a great job by everyone concerned. It was a good stop based on the amount of smoke upon arrival.”

He added that the owner of Mama’s Caboose should be able to rebuild since the “structure of the building is sound.” He said, “she lost some contents inside, but the structure is fine.” He added that the fact the building was saved, “was due to the guys getting inside and ventilating it quickly.”

Battalion Chief Imbibo was the first on the scene. He said about 22-24 Berkeley Heights firefighters responded. “I didn’t think we could stop it when I arrived on the scene. It took a lot of hard work but these guys saved a landmark in town,” he said.

According to CleverCommute, the 7:24 Summit train arrived on time, and regular train service was thankfully and safely restored.
 
- jerseyjim

Some bait and switch on this morning’s New Jersey Transit Midtown Direct train to Penn Station.

Blackberrys were buzzing, and Clever Commuters were quizzing, as the 7:15 from Summit left the station.

As he walked through the first car, the conductor promised the nervous passengers that he would make an announcement.

“Due to AMTRAK problems, there are up to 60 minute delays in and out of Penn Station New York. Several trains are being diverted to Hoboken, but this train is not. Next Stop, Penn Station, NY.”

Some smiles, and audible sighs of relief rose above the seats. It sounded too good to be true. And sure enough, it was.

About 10 minutes later, another announcement from the conductor.

“Ladies and Gentleman, this train will be going to Hoboken. PATH trains will cross-honor fares for all NJT passengers.”
 
From the ongoing postings to Clever Commute, confusion and delays persisted on the other trains heading East.

So we rolled into Hoboken Lakawanna Terminal, and submerged to the PATH trains. Not much complaining; most of the passengers shrugged and took it in stride. In yonder days before the Midtown Direct, this was a daily slog for all Jersey commuters heading to New York City.

Waiting for the train this morning in the brisk air, I was again impressed by the smoking guy that stands about 30 feet from the tracks, and smokes his last cigarette before boarding the NY bound train.

It must be hard for a smoker these days, in the bitter thin air of winter. And with so many train delays, who knows when your next nicotine fix will come your way? This is why people drive cars.

It must be rotten being couped-up in a train for 55 minutes, then fighting the crowd in Penn Station with an unlit Marlboro clenched in your teeth. Climbing slowly from the tracks to the street level, finally free to light up, and become the city-walking-smoking guy.
 
From my recent observations, it stands to reason that cigarettes actually keep you warmer. So many folks outside without a coat, hat or gloves, and a burning ember in their lips, these portable Lung-Johns are ideal for people on the move. We must find a way to return to the Mad Men days of Don Draper, where smoking on trains, and everywhere, was part of life.

Don Draper has got me thinking. Our solution is right here in our hands, and that would be a cigarette made of coffee. Bear with me, but how different can nicotine and caffeine really be? I’m no chemistry wiz, so I’ll leave the details up to the experts. I think we need to put Starbucks on the case, with some small funding by Altria (Philip Morris’s new identity- the slick name that says “I’ll try ya!”).

Coffee beans are already exotic, and I don’t think anyone on the train, in a movie theatre, in the office, would be opposed to the idea of coffee that never gets cold, because it’s actually on fire. These beansmokes could be as harmless as a cup of Joe, and they’ll taste like French Roast!
 
Our trains would be safer and kinder. No spilled coffee. No disgruntled passengers waiting to light-up. And just imagine the new tax revenue! 

– jersey jim

This is a bit hard to rap one’s head around, but let us try. A bike-to-the-station type erroneously chained not only his bike, but the bike next to his, to the rack at a Jersey Transit station. So when the owner of the bike that had been mistakenly chained up got back to the station, he or she was unable to ride home.

Stuck at the station, that person had all the time in the world to pen the following note:

Love how “Dude” is the accepted form of greeting among Ultimate Frisbee players and those who bike to train stations.  

JerseyJim adds:

When I came to unlock my bike at the end of the day on Monday, the bike next to me had a note on the back fender, written on a napkin that said:

“DUDE, YOU CHAINED MY BIKE!! DO NOT TO THAT AGAIN!”

Now it was oddly crowded at the bike rack on Monday - there are usually only one or two bikes, but on this day, there were about five bikes, and it’s a small /U”U\ rack that doesn’t allow for much variety.

I guess that someone running late just leaned their bike near the rack, and slung their chain around without much technique, and lassoed the innocent bike along with theirs.

Usually the peloton of bike folks at my station [Editor’s Note: Nice use of “peleton”!] are a friendly bunch, but I was just glad that I wasn’t the one that made the faux-pas. Over in Summit station, they would probably wait around and jump you.

Thankfully, an uneventful train ride on NJ Transit this morning. As we pulled into Penn Station, the conductor even informed us that we were a few minutes early!  

On Monday, this same conductor apologized for last Thursday’s cancellation of all train service west of Summit on our Gladstone line.

“Sorry to all the folks we missed last Thursday,” he said. “We were caught up in some branches for about three hours.”

 Visualizing an entire train up in a tree, like a scene from Twister or some industrial folk art, helped soften the bad memories from Thursday. Getting to the station, seeing commuters all turning back to their cars, and then biking further to Summit was a drag. 

I should feel less put out by a few extra miles on the bike. Watching the coverage of the Tour de France on Versus has certainly been Lance-tastic. But I still can’t figure out the complicated rules and qualifying time trials, or what the heck qualifies Ben Stiller to hang around. I guess he does a good Jerry Lewis impression.

Last night’s commute got extra long for folks on the 5:50 out of Penn Station. After a delayed departure due to power problems with our train in Queens Yard, we sped under the Hudson as usual, and made it just east of Newark before losing power and sitting on the tracks for about 35 mins.

I was hoping for a quick re-start. I was willing myself home to catch the last few innings of my daughter’s last softball game. But as it turns out, I missed that entirely, and didn’t get home until after

her bedtime.

As we sat in Harrison, through flickering overhead lights and the grinding of generators, the conductor dutifully informed us of our (non)progress.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re waiting for either a Rescue Train to drag/push us into Broad Street Newark Station, or an empty train to pull up, and transfer all the riders over to a working train”

The conductor was more than informative, repeating our status every 5 minutes or so. But once a Rescue Train arrived, and a decisions was made that we would proceed with all regular stops until

Summit, the train remained halted for an extra 10 minutes.

Now the (clearly annoyed) conductor informed us that, regardless of the plan underway, they must await plan approval from Dispatch Headquarters in NY. So like astronauts in Cape Canaveral awaiting the launch sequence from faraway Houston, or a drone aircraft in Iraq awaiting commands from Nevada, we waited for orders.

Only this is not rocket science or war — this is just a train ride in Jersey.

Eventually our Rescue Train dragged us west to Summit, arriving 1 hour and 20 minutes overdue, at 7:50 pm. We were then informed that everyone must disembark in Summit, and we would board a new train for the local stops further west.

Most passengers were thankful that an empty train was waiting across the platform. But remarkably, the delays continued! We sat until 8:15pm, waiting for two regular-scheduled trains to pass, as the

conductor tutored us:

“Due to the fact that we are now on a single-track format, we must wait for trains to move ahead of us,

since we are out-of-pocket.”

I guess logic dictated that NJ Transit didn’t want to inconvenience the passengers that left NYC at 7:22pm, so those of us on the 5:50 pm train needed to “be patient and wait it out.”

We finally arrived at my station at 8:20 pm — only 1 hour and 40 minutes late. 

Happy summer, New Jersey.

A welcome whiff of spring weather today, giving my winter overcoat a much needed day off. I took new stock in my morning commute in a top ten assessment of its odoriferous offerings.  

Sulfur: The first strong burst of metal, as the train brakes to a stop. Welcome to The Machine.

Cranberry Bleach: The Fruity Pebbles disinfectant in the bathroom car.

Perfume: The Summit power-moms arrive. A woozy swirl of Charlie and oatmeal.

Homeless Funk: Detraining in Penn Station, we confirm strong olfactory evidence of local pack of nocturnal bipeds, also known as The Mole People.

The I Can’t Believe There’s So Much Butter Bakery: Just before the 7th Ave stairs in Penn Station, the stale scent of 10,000 cheese danish, cased-in and sweating.

29th St Cigar Shoppe: A sweet musky odor vents out, like that first deep drag. I’m zapped back to childhood roadtrips in the family station wagon.  “A nice walk with a morning cigar would be great!,” I think. Twenty paces later, it’s totally gone. Keep walking.

Fake Starbucks Coffee Odeur: Very unique, but wait a minute, is that what coffee really smells like?

Drywall and Fresh Concrete. The night crew of illegals/barely legals has just demolished another floor of a vacated building. In a cloud of white dust, they’re lined up to dump dozens of small wheelie containers of drywall and rebar into a garbage truck. These guys have been working all night. They’re probably heading out to their day jobs shortly.

Bike Messenger Pot Smoke: Passing the bike depot, the morning line is laughing it up, prepping for today’s battle with the taxi terrorists.

Coffee kiosk: The real deal. This guy drove in from Queens at 5am, roach coach in tow. The coffee is dark, blistering hot, and fresh. The blueberry muffins are cold, but as dense as carbon.

In a moment I’ll be inside, where the smell of stale carpet, Twizzlers, and cardboard fill my day.