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.

It appears Dr. Seuss enjoyed the T on a recent trip to Boston.

The Mystery Train

The Mystery Train is a train of excitement,
With windows so clouded that you cannot see
Which station you’re passing - or IF there’s a station,
Or where in the world you might happen to be.

You stare in confusion at windows so frosted
An x-ray machine couldn’t peer through the haze.
Is my stop coming up? Or have I just passed it?
Or am I a minotaur lost in a maze?

The conductors all thoughtfully aid in the mystery,
Never breathing a word which might pierce that dark veil
Where is the train going? Are we passing a station?
Was that blob Back Bay station, or was it Montvale?

If YOU want to ride on a train full of mystery
They’re rolling along on the tracks every day
You might never get to the place you were going,
But that’s how it is on the MBTA.

You scored this sweet townhouse in Red Hook, within crawling distance of the Liberty Heights Tap Room. The only downside is that nasty-ass commute to lower Manhattan–the long walk past the projects to the F train.

Then along comes Ikea, and its free ferry. Yes, the much maligned new Ikea on the Brooklyn waterfront is offering free ferry service to and from lower Manhattan, and the NY Times reports that some opportunistic commuters are availing themselves of this luxury.

There is the daily water taxi and shuttle bus service provided free by Ikea, technically for its customers. But for residents, the boats and buses have made the hard-to-reach neighborhood without a subway stop a little less remote; the ferries in particular have given them a picturesque way to travel between Manhattan and Red Hook.

There is concern that Ikea will scale back its bus and water taxi service, or scrap it altogether. But until then, plenty of people are enjoying the free ride across the Buttermilk Channel and the bay.

On another night, Chris Curen and Bill McDermott waited in line for the Ikea ferry on a pier in Lower Manhattan. Mr. Curen lives as close as one can to the furniture store, in an apartment building across the street. He is still angry about his new neighbor, arguing, among other things, that Ikea destroyed historic buildings to open its store.

But he added: “I guess I have to admit the traffic isn’t that bad.” Neither was the esplanade. “I think any time there’s waterfront access, it’s positive,” he said, as he and Mr. McDermott got on the boat for the shorter and more appealing ride home than their typical subway ride.

[image: NY Times]