The can-do civic organization Mount Pleasant Today presented findings from its questionnaire to the town board Tuesday night. MPT issued hundreds of questionnaires, both electronic and hard copy, to commuters and residents to see what they want to go into the to-be-renovated Hawthorne train station.

Here’s what the public wants, in order: 1. Bistro, i.e. Pleasantville’s Jean Jacques; 2. National coffee chain, i.e. Starbucks, Dunkin; 3. Police substation to combat the scratchitti, vandalism, urine problem.

The space is cozy and needs loads of TLC to make it presentable. I took the below pic of the northern half of the building last month.

The decision on who goes into the station building is up to the board. Supervisor Maybury has said the decision will come in late August or early September. Insiders say the board wants the new tenant (or tenants, there are two rooms in the building that may or may not go to different vendors) in as early as next month.

Reminder, Mount Pleasant Today will reveal the findings of the questionnaire it issued to you, dear Metro-North riders, about what to do with the empty Hawthorne station building. Will it be a restaurant? A reading room? A Suburban Outfitters?

It’s the town board’s decision, but the questionnaire results will figure in.

MPT shares its findings with the board 8:30 tonight at Mt Pleasant Town Hall.

Man, was it hot riding home from the station yesterday evening.

I unlocked my ride at the rack, and saluted my other rack occupant with a nod.

He’s a youngish guy in a beard, and I was curious where he rides to, because there are major hills in most directions around the station. It’s hardly bike-friendly.

He was off a moment before me, heading south.

I strapped my pack onto my pack, Dora’s “Backpack” song bouncing around my head. (Backpack, backpack…if you have a daughter who’s under 5, you know the tune.)

My pack was particularly heavy; I’d played softball after work late last week, and left my work clothes and shoes at work. All were in my pack last night.

My fellow rider turned left at Lexington Cross Street, which is a giant hill. I watched him climb that thing like Lance in his prime, slow and steady, like the lederhosen-clad mountain climber in that game on The Price is Right.

All the way to the top. I was impressed.

Meanwhile, down at the bottom of Elwood and Cross, I was laboring under the weight of my pack and cursing the relentless summer heat. Hot, sweaty, sore, and with Dora’s “Backpack” song in your head…I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, short of BP execs.

As I neared Chelsea, a familiar car went by. Neighbor “D” offered the surf’s-up finger-pinkie wave; he’s just back from a shore vacation and obviously still has the beach on the brain.

“Wanna ride?” D asked as we turned onto Chelsea.

I thought of some way I could latch on to him, have his little Subaru drag me by bungee cords up Heartbreak Hill and home.

Then I thought of a more doable Plan B.

“Can you grab my pack?” I said as I yanked the boulder off my pack.

“Sure,” he said, grabbing the satchel and proceeding to zoom up Chelsea.

Five minutes later and 15 pounds lighter, I arrived at the homestead, and found my pack sitting in the driveway, waiting for me.

So thank you, D, for making my steamy Monday slightly easier.

For your efforts I will plug your band, Wakeup Call, and sincerely hope you fill Victor’s August 28.

I know WC bills itself as Westchester’s best classic rock band.

Maybe you can play Dora’s “Backpack” song for me.

Metro-North is seeking old train memorabilia for an exhibition commemorating Grand Central’s 100th anniversary, reports Teen Stabbed in Yonkers Mugging the Journal News.

“We know that railroad fans and history buffs have some unique collections that may have had interesting origins,” Metro-North President Howard Permut said in a press release. “But we are grateful to the stewards of our history and recognize that many of these vintage items were literally rescued from trash bins as one railroad failed and another took over.”

I may send them a monthly pass that only cost me $208–now that’s a relic!

The MTA will take anything with “Grand Central” on it, or the other railroads that have come into the famed train terminal over the past century.

Writes the paper:

Even “ephemera” (as the railroad called it in the press release) such as train tickets, timetables, and menus and matchbooks from restaurants and other establishments that served passengers. Think of it as history’s confetti.

They’ll take photos, fliers and advertisements for events held in the terminal.

And if you’ve got something they haven’t thought of but that still has something to do with Grand Central, let them know anyway.

“We’re hoping that we’ll be surprised,” railroad spokeswoman Marjorie Anders said.

Thanks to reader Lisa H. for the tip.

Trainjotting sets its way-back machine to September 2009. Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg are shooting a film in front of Grand Central.

It was, of course, The Other Guys–the No. 1 movie of the past weekend.

 Here’s the sneak preview we got last fall:

Where There’s a Will, There’s a ‘Hey!’

Posted by TJ under Grand Central, Pershing Square (edit this)

I decided I’d make the most of the warm fall temps and walk from Grand Central to work this morning.

I encountered a movie set right across from the Terminal, at 41st and Park. A couple leading-men types were unwinding after a shot. Both were wearing dark suits. The tall one lit up a smoke and the shorter one had a prop gun strapped to his chest–an interesting sight with much of the Grand Central region under serious security lockdown with those world leaders in town.

I grumbled about the jam-up ahead at the corner of 40th, where some P.A.s instructed us luckless pedestrians to loop around some of their gear.

It was a pretty big production, maybe 60 crew members massed on the corner.

I was about to cross 40th when a large black SUV stopped in front of me, and who gets out but Frank the Tanchorman himself, Will Ferrell. Nice suit, looking relaxed, not as freakishly tall as his vertically challenged co-stars might make him look–6? 2? or maybe 6? 3?. Will walked past and was approached by a large man from the set–either security or some production lackey.

“Hey–how ya doin’?” said Will with a smile.

Stay classy, south of Grand Central.

Train blogger/photog Emily of IRideTheHarlemLine has revisited the tiny Mount Pleasant train station, which only receives/accepts passengers a few times a weekend as they visit/depart Gate of Heaven cemetery. (GoH is of course the final resting place of Babe Ruth and, about 50 feet away from Ruth, Billy Martin. George Steinbrenner is buried 1,200 miles away in Tampa.)

Emily takes terrific photos, and takes considerable delight in visiting Metro-North train stations and snapping the s*** out of them.

This is her second visit to Mount Pleasant; previously, she called it “The loneliest statin on the Harlem Line.” Oddly, it’s probably closer to my home than the Hawthorne station, though getting my bike up the hill through Gate of Heaven would make Broad Street’s Heartbreak Hill seem like a bunny slope.

She writes:

One of the first station panoramas I posted was from Mount Pleasant… though I wasn’t too happy with it, so I went back to the station, and got a few new panoramas. Enjoy! 

Remind me to speak with Emily about helping with some sort of long-overdue redesign of Trainjotting.

The civic group Mount Pleasant Today has tallied up its commuter questionnaires regarding what to do with the now in-play Hawthorne train station, and will present its findings to the town board, including Supervisor Joan Maybury, at town hall at 8:30 p.m. August 10.

Writes MPT:

We would like to thank you for participating in the Hawthorne Train Station Survey. We are very pleased with the overwhelming responses we received.

Mount Pleasant Today will be presenting the Hawthorne Train Station Survey Results to the Town Supervisor, Town Board and the community at the Public Session of the Town Board meeting on Tuesday, August 10th at 8:30pm. 
 
We invite you to attend.

The decision on what to do with the vacant space at the train station is ultimately up to the board, but Maybury has said the questionnaire results will figure into the decision.

Maybury has made cleaning up the Hawthorne station a cornerstone of her tenure; recent improvements include a giant ornamental clock, and a pair of new stone planters filled with flora and fauna.

It appears the clock was officially unveiled last Thursday. When I got to the station in the evening, several parking spots were blocked off, and crews were setting up a PA system.

I was making my way to Grand Central yesterday evening, doing a little Pershing Square dancing with the usual two minutes to get from 42nd Street to my train.

There was a massive crowd in front of Grand Central; clearly, a film shoot was going on. It takes a lot to get more than a few dozen New Yorkers to stop and actually watch a shoot–remember, we had live Law & Order whenever we wanted it for the last 37 years–and this shoot was succeeding in that regard, easily a few hundred people watching the proceedings.

At the heart of the shoot was a man with wild, dark hair and a rakish top hat. The Missus had PPV’d Tim Burton’s trippy “Alice in Wonderland” the night before, so I immediately thought of Johnny Depp as I crossed 42nd.

Nope, wasn’t him. As I got closer, I saw it was actually Russell Brand hamming it up for the crowd. He’s starring in a remake of Arthur.

Who would’ve thought Brand, a.k.a. Mr. Katy Perry, was so recognizable to the chubby, moneyed white GCT demo?

I don’t know that this has ever happened to me in my seven years of using a MetroCard.

I made my way to the turnstile under Grand Central this morning, en route to the 6.

I saw the massive lines for new monthly tickets, and patted myself on the back for having had the forethought to bring my August ticket this morning.

Alas, the turnstile turned out to be a spurnstile.

“Already Expired,” read the digital reader after I ran my card through the turnstile.

Expired?

I have four MetroCards in my wallet right now, six if you include the ones offering their services on the flipside of my July and August train passes. All four have some degree of value on them–40 cents or a buck or a buck-fifty, or some amount that’s not quite enough to get on the subway with.

This happens when I need to put more money on the card, but am faced with a machine that issues only new MetroCards. I have another five or six cards at home, also with some change on them. I may make a Christmas ornament out of them someday.

A crowd assembling behind me at the turnstile, I flipped the card over. “Expires -7/31/10,” it said. Expired indeed, and took my four or five dollars or whatever I had on the card with it.

Happy freakin’ Monday, I thought as I headed for the escalator and Grand Central exit.

At least walking is still free.

UPDATE: Thanks to the sound advice from readers Benjamin and Ellie, I presented my expired card to the token clerk at 28th and Park, and was given a fresh new card with the existing $4.50 on it about four seconds later.

It was, quite simply, the least amount of time I’ve ever given myself to catch a train.

And I’ve pushed the limits quite a bit.

I had my eye on the 5:46. I’d like to say I had something absolutely crucial to do in Westchester at 6:30–put out a ticking bomb planted by the Russkies (Jack Bauer was, in fact, having a nap), or go over final wedding plans with Bill and Hill up in Clintonville.

In fact, I just wanted to get home to play with the kiddies and give The Missus a breather.

I’d had a 5:15 phone meeting scheduled and figured it wouldn’t go beyond 5:30, which is when I try to leave for the 5:46.

5:15, no call. 5:20, nothing.

Finally, the guy calls at 5:25. Maybe I can make it really short, I thought.

We did our business while I eyed the clock. It was 5:32 when we were winding down. I shut down my computer and loaded my backpack. We made small talk about Mad Men, and I thought of Don Draper rushing to catch the express to Ossining.

I huge up at 5:34; could I actually exit work and sprint to Grand Central, and track 108, in the next 12 minutes?

I hit the elevators, then the street at 28th. It was 5:37. No, I couldn’t sprint it, not even in my lean, mean prime. My only hope was the 6 train.

Just as I entered the station at 28th, I saw just what I hoped to see: a subway at the platform. I ran my card through and bolted for it–then watched the doors shut and the train take off just as I got there.

I’d be on the 6:10, I conceded. Mission failed. Russkies win. Again.

The new-ish electronic scoreboard in the station said the next train would arrive in three minutes. I clung to a distant hope.

Indeed, there it was, three minutes later. The on-train clock said 5:41. Could I go two stops, then bust through the rush-hour crush in Grand Central to make the 5:46?

I was sure as hell going to try.

We made it to 33rd in a flash, while the run to 42nd snaked slowly through the dark tunnel. I moved closer to the door for pole position and stretched my legs for the sprint.

I looked at my new Timex Iron Man: 5:44:20 as the doors opened. I had less than two minutes to navigate the GCT obstacle course.

I bolted out of the train, pushed through the human morass at the stairs, climbed the steps, bumped off an old man as I headed through the turnstiles, and headed up the stairs to Grand Central.

5:45.

I prayed for the typical 40-seconds late Metro-North train as I galloped down the GCT corridor to the concourse. Then it was down the way-too-narrow escalator  to track 108 (Going up the stairs, only to go down the escalator. Must it be that way?)

I committed the faux pas of actually passing people on the one-person-width escalator, earning me a few stink-eyes. Still, I soldiered on.

It was a straight sprint across the basement level to 108, cutting through a Hudson News to shave off a few seconds (”Crossing the Hudson,” in commuter parlance.). I hit the ramp at 5:45:40 and the lights of my train were flashing. The conductor’s head was out of the window like a Whack-A-Mole. He spied me and offered a faint mask of disgust.

I stepped onto the train just as the doors shut.

A new NYC commuter record. My fellow riders toasted me with a gold medal, a crown made of an olive branch, and a seat on the aisle.