Trainjotting is on vacation. Please visit our rich trove of past posts, and we’ll see you next week.

Slate.com is tapping crowd-sourcing to find the best ways to get around the cities of America. Called “Nimble Cities,” the feature prompts readers to submit their best ideas for getting around in and between cities in the most efficient and safe manner.

In short, it’s all about improving your commute, and we’re all about that.

Submissions will be accepted until July 6th.

Here’s a little teaser from Nimble Cities:

What are the things that will help create more Nimble Cities? While we’re certainly not opposed to your most forward-looking proposals: Let’s fire up Chicago’s once sprawling pneumatic tube network; let’s not let those zeppelin masts go to waste!–what we’re most interested in are things in the here and now, things that are already making (or will soon be making) a difference in your city. These may be big-picture: high-speed rail corridors that return our intracity train systems to their (much faster) glory days, or maybe even personal rapid transit. (It’s already come to London’s Heathrow Airport.) But they need not be grandiose: Maybe it’s free Wi-Fi on interurban buses; maybe it’s cycle superhighways; maybe it’s a subway display that tells users which cars are most crowded or Seoul’s active OLEV (Online Electric Vehicle) project, in which vehicles draw electric power from strips embedded in the road. Submit a brief write-up here, and include images if at all possible! It will help people notice, and perhaps vote for, your idea.

Who couldn’t use a little pick-me-up today? Our Nice Letter of the Day from a reader:

TJ,

Very good stuff.  I especially like the way you analize the &*%#  out of things, and then write it up in a witty way.

Keep it up.  It’s better than reading any newspaper.

wk
New York

I’ve gone off the rails for a week.

Please visit our rich trove of old content in the meantime.

The NY Times gives the Holiday Train Show at the Botanical Gardens up in the Bronx a thumbs-up.

The Guggenheim Museum is set in lush woodlands, shaded by a Norfolk Island hibiscus, its Frank Lloyd Wright organic spiral evoked by layers of black locust shelf fungi. A train shaped like a ladybug whirs along a track that runs under the Washington Arch (made from willow, canella berries, pine bark and walnut shells). Another train runs past the crowded towers of Midtown Manhattan, making room for Rockefeller Center’s heraldic Christmas angels (composed of okra pods).

A series of the city’s bridges spans the show’s central walkway, with trains running on them as well: the George Washington Bridge (made from willow, bamboo and cedar bark), the Manhattan Bridge (oak, hickory and elm, with willow branches), Hell Gate Bridge (oak, black walnut and eastern red cedar) and the Brooklyn Bridge, whose neo-Gothic arches are lined with sugar-pine-cone scales.

As luck would have it, both the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal have stories today one how mass-transit trains seem to have benefited from last week’s elections. The Times says the streetcar, which America invented but Europe widely adopted–may make a comeback as a greener alternative to diesel buses.

Areas such as Denver, Norfolk and Houston have already set up tram systems to cart people around. Other cities, like Tampa and Charlotte, want the old-school Rice-a-Roni style trolleys.

Over at the Journal, they’re saying 23 initiatives were approved on Election Day that will inject $75 billion into transportation, including a high-speed network in Calironia and an expansion of the system in Seattle. Seattle of course took the concept of the monorail out of sci fi novels and introduced it at its World’s Fair in 1962.

I got out of the train at Valhalla station, looking for the Ryder Cup.

Couldn’t find it anywhere.

[image: Yanks Ben Curtis and Steve Stricker at Valhalla Golf Club, compliments of NY Times]

I was hustling out of a conference at the Grand Hyatt around 3:15 yesterday, having just watched a Major Media Mogul say business is just dandy amidst the crumbling financial institutions around us. It seemed a small crowd had gathered on 42nd just east of Grand Central…not quite enough to be a scene, but more than the typical band of eight tourists with Palin-esque accents wondering what was next on their sightseeing agenda.

A middle-aged couple wore the old-school futuristic looking Chicago White Sox jerseys from the Fisk-Seaver era. Several others wore the current Sox uni shirts from the Thome-Griffey days.

The group numbered about 20, and stirred to attention as a few men, then a few more, made their way from the Hyatt to a giant coach bus parked in front of the hotel.

Indeed, the Chicago White Sox were in town for a game at the Stadium, and the South Side groupies were there to show the love.

I have almost no control over the ads you see at the top of the page. Yes, I signed up for the program, called Google Adsense, and on a good day, what I and JerseyJim and Foot It guy Tim and Straphanger Joe blog about influences what ads appear. (The great Google god above reads the post, chuckles at our unfailing wit, then decides which from His giant trove of advertisers would have the best chance of selling the reader something based on the content.)

Well, moments after we posted something on pedicabs at the conventions, an ad from John McCain–specifically, JohnMcCain.com–popped up. It shows Sen. Odrama…er, Obama… in a host of different God-like poses, includes people saying God-like things about him, and repeatedly shows Charlton Heston as Moses.

Then, at the end, it declares that Sen. Obama is not fit to run the country, despite being like God and all.

It’s funny how the mainstream media struggles so hard to get the candidates to cough up dough on the Web, while dopey sites such as this luck into such ads. (I know, it cost Camp McCain all of about 4 cents to advertise on Trainjotting.)

So thanks, John. And, ya know, good luck in November and all, I guess.

A young couple sat on facing folding chairs on the 6:33 last night. She was a pretty woman with dark hair and skin, perhaps Indian, around 30. He was a typical white guy–beige oxford shirt, black slacks, black size 12 loafers.

The woman took three tiny pairs of Crocs–those ugly-ass rubber moccasins that kids love–out of a bag. They were brand new, still had the tags on them. One pair was powder blue, one was purple, and one was green. They looked like they’d fit someone between 2 and 4.

Part of the Crocs’ appeal is that kids can stick charms–Lightning McQueen, Betty Boop, Pokemon–into holes spread throughout the ugly-ass shoes.

The woman ripped off the tags and the couple proceeded to affix charms on the three pairs–a football here, a bus there, Mickey Mouse’s mug here–moving them around, finding the best spot on the best Coc for a certain charm. They seemed to be putting a lot of thought and effort into the process, and were obviously enjoying themselves.

This went on from Grand Central up to 125th Street. Then the couple broke for some food, sharing a bag of fruit snacks.

A moment later, they were at it again, in search of that perfect combo of charm and croc, sharing their handiwork with each other with apparent joy. 

Were the would-be Croc wearers their own kids? It didn’t seem likely. A friend’s kids, and they were thinking about what it would be like to have their own child–perhaps a boy with olive skin, a beige oxford shirt and, of course, Crocs?

This went on until Melrose. Then they put the Crocs away. The woman took out a book. The man took out some paperwork and put his iPod Nano on.

As I stepped off the train in Hummerville, I saw his “paperwork” was actually fantasy football material.