9:30 this morning, huge crowd heading down to the 4-5-6 trains under Grand Central.

There’s an ugly jam-up at the stairs. The 5 has just left, but it appears to have been several minutes since a 6 pulled in, and impatient would-be straphangers are massed on the platform, contributing to the bottleneck.

Then the jam’s true culprit becomes apparent. At the bottom of the stairs, a man sits. He’s got dreadlocks and a colorful pair of boxers, his jeans way, way below the waist level. He’s sleeping on the bottom step.

The man ahead of me, a stone-faced suit, hits the guy in the back of the head as he passes. I can’t say for sure it was intentional, but smart money says it was the sort of tap a hockey defenseman gives a forward who’s camped too close to the crease.

The slumbering fool is more or less something you see every day, until I realize what, other than the bright boxers, the man is wearing. It’s the blue pinny of one of those community associations–the men (and I presume women) who are hired to wear brightly colored pinnies and sweep streets, sidewalks and subway platforms.

After the day laborer took the shot to the head, he opened his eyes, looked around, and went back to sleep.

Fearing that too many riders thought “Slippery Rail” was the reason LIRR workers gave for their bum knees and sore backs on their disability forms, the MTA issued printouts on Metro-North yesterday informing riders of the autumnal peril alternately known as Slippery Rail and Slip-Slide.

“This condition is created by a slimy substance left by crushed leaves on our rails that gets even more slippery and slimy after it rains,” it reads. “When a train attempts to speed up or slow down, this gelatinous “slime” can cause the wheels to slip or slide along the rails. In severe cases the train will automatically make an emergency stop, because the on-board computer system perceives “slip-sliding” as excessive speed.”

Slipping-sliding cars get flat wheels, the MTA explains, the cars are taken out of service to make the wheels round again, and riders are jammed into sometimes half the number of cars as is normal.  

The “ditto,” as we called them several decades ago, then explains the various measures the MTA is employing to combat Slippery Rail, such as reprogramming the software of the M7 fleet to allow the braking system to adjust to slip-slide conditions, reducing speeds through leafy patches, using rail-washers and scrubbers to remove dead leaves from tracks, and also shooting sand onto the tracks to make them grippier. (Yes, we just made up “grippier.”)

These measures actually made Slippery Rail a non-factor last year. (If I recall, the leaves started falling much later last year.) Will Metro-North win the battle again this year?

Long Island Railroad management sold tips on getting bogus disability claims OK’d to railroad workers, reports today’s NY Times.

A far-reaching investigation into the legitimacy of disabilities at the Long Island Rail Road took a new turn on Monday as witnesses at a state hearing said that L.I.R.R. managers had improperly provided inside help to workers seeking both federal and private disability insurance payments.

At the hearing here on Long Island, called by New York’s attorney general, Andrew M. Cuomo, state investigators produced an e-mail message from an L.I.R.R. official who, they said, sold advice while on the job on how to get disability payments, including such fine points as paying a doctor in cash for a medical evaluation, the best time to retire and how to avoid outside scrutiny.

LIRR workers have received around $250 million in claims since 2000. Ultimately taxpayers foot the bill.

“There appears to have been a cottage industry, if you will, that developed to expedite the granting of disability benefits,” Cuomo said. “This poses a classic scam on the taxpayer in my opinion — a complicated program administered by a number of different agencies and a concept that this is no one’s money.”

Kindle Me

By Straphanger Joe

It was an ordinary day on the Upper East Side near Hunter College and all the hoi polloi and college kids were out in the early morning rush.

I’d been on the surface with some morning business, the usual deal gone bad, and I was heading underground. The chill made me shiver. I pulled up my collar and passed through the turnstile of the 77^th Street station.

The train pulled up and the doors opened crisply. A few people stepped out and I let them go around me. It was the number 6, green line, heading downtown. I entered the car and took my position near the door the way I always do on the F, left side, back to the soon-be-closed-doors, and turned to make sure I wasn’t blocking anyone, when she came in behind me.

Soft, grey, faux leather cover, tan plastic case, gray screen with black letters climbing up and down its body, conga drums beating a hip swaying rhythm as it moved from side to side with its human carrier. It was a Kindle Reader, from Amazon, human attached. I never seen a machine move that way. I heard tell of them from TJ on the Metro North and JerseyJim on Jersey Transit, but I never seen one myself riding on the underground. It would have to be here, on the East Side, of all places that I’d see one.

It’s carrier was a woman in her forties, wearing jeans, a black leather jacket keeping the chill out, long brown hair tied up in a pony tail swaying as she moved, mocking my existence. She held the Kindle loose, but possessively, and took a corner fold-down seat to my right.

I tried not to stare but the faux leather sheath did me in. They said it was ugly. They said it was klunky. But I tell you it was neither. It was mesmerizing. The woman stared at it and I stared at her. She wrinkled her brow as if feeling my gaze upon her and I looked away just as she looked up. I pulled my collar out and noticed I was sweating. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. The door closed behind me and the train took off.

When she left at 42^nd street, the Kindle peering over her human’s shoulder with a doll-faced look, I took a sigh of relief, found a seat to relieve my shaking legs. The thing is you see one of those babes on the 6-train and sooner or later, some dark stormy night, when you’re least expecting it, you’ll see another one on your beloved F. Then there’ll be hell to pay in cold green cash.

I’m not ready for it, see? Just … not … ready for it.

[image pictureshowman.com]

If Walt Bogdanich and his crew don’t get a Pulitzer for their work on the dodgy LIRR employee claims, I’m donning full conductor gear–train belt buckle and all–and jumping into the Hudson in February.

The NY Times’ latest dive into the LIRR employee scam reveals that consultants actually extracted large sums from LIRR workers to coach them on how to score disability checks for the rest of their lives.

Of particular interest to investigators is a small group of disability consultants and physicians who have helped the L.I.R.R. attain the dubious distinction of having the nation’s highest rate of disabled retirees even while it was earning awards for employee safety. The New York Times reported in September that nearly all of the railroad’s career employees retire early and file for disability.

One consultant, Marie T. Baran, ran the board’s Long Island office until she quit two years ago and began selling advice to rail workers on how to navigate the system of which she had been a part. Other disability advisers are prominent former union leaders, including one who once represented labor on the board of the L.I.R.R.’s parent agency, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority.

How rampant was “disability” among LIRR workers? Funny you should ask.

From 2001 through 2007, Metro-North Railroad, which serves commuters north of New York City, had 32 cases of disabling arthritis or rheumatism, compared with 753 at the L.I.R.R, which has a work force of similar size and composition.

The Times notes that consultants got about $1000 for helping LIRR staffers fill out the 15-page application for disability.

Mount Pleasant’s town hall, a charmless concrete edifice that looks like a minimum security prison, will come to life Wednesday night as the townsfolk argue for, among other things, a nicer train station in Hawthorne and more active downtowns in Hawthorne, Valhalla and–that third tenor of The Three Tenors–Thornwood.

“It is our goal to make a positive change in the community through community involvement,” says a local activist group that’s been hanging flyers around town. “Many of us want change, positive change, long term change, by opening up the lines of communication.” 

That may include an online community board, not sponsored by the town, where residents can discuss community matters, such as schools, the train station, and the dinky selection of shops in our hamlets.

Regarding the latter, the town board reportedly shot down a Dunkin Donuts a few blocks from the Hawthorne train for parking reasons. The storefront has been vacant for close to two years now.  

Also regarding the latter, Little G got his first-ever real haircut at the new barber shop across from the DK gas station, and the hairdresser lady Amy was very nice to him, even letting him take an extra lollipop. We also had an enjoyable visit to the little pet coiffeure next door, where some dogs were playfully resisting makeovers. The proprietor raved about Lily Winzig’s memorable roast beef sandwiches.

Indeed, it would be nice if Hummerville could boost its walkability a bit.

The Duracell Man

By Straphanger Joe

I’m half asleep. You know, the kind of sleep where you’re awake but almost asleep. It’s a subway sleep. Eyes are half closed and heavy. Heartbeat and respiration slow, but ears still tuned in to what’s going on around me.

My head is leaned back against the pole. The car is only a quarter empty, with lots of space between passengers.

I hear his voice. It’s hard to explain exactly what he sounds like, but once you’ve heard him you won’t forget his tone and the texture of his voice. It’s like a cross between Ben Stein and Eeyore.

“I am a businessman,” he says. “I am selling double A Durracell batteries–two for a dollar.”

Now I’m more half awake than asleep and I see him. I’ve seen him before but it’s been a while. He’s African-American, thin, with slightly graying hair, a small stoop to his shoulders, and he carries a small plain brown box of Duracell double A batteries in one hand and a solitary package of double A batteries in his other hand. The package in his right hand is his sample. He doesn’t ask for money. He only asks for your business.

Batteries are all he sells–Double A, Duracell. Sometimes I see someone buy some from him. He says “Thank you,” and hands over his sample, picks up another one from his small box, and moves on.

It’s got to be over four years I’ve seen him on the F train–on and off, on and off.

He passes me and gets to the end of the car. He sits down and rides quietly, not having

sold anything. He waits patiently, then moves forward to the next car when we get to the station. I can hear his voice before the car doors close.

“I am a businessman. I am selling–”

I wonder where he gets his batteries? I wonder how many he sells every day? I wonder if he travels other lines? Has anyone else seen him on another train line? I can guess why he sells double A’s because it’s a popular size. But why Duracell? Why Duracell?

I’m more half asleep than awake once more as the train pulls away from the station.

Our Metro-North blogger compadre StationStops has revealed his master plan–an iPhone application that, according to SS, “keeps the Metro-North Grand Central Terminal timetable stored on your iPhone, and allows you to quickly find your next train to or from Grand Central, without an internet connection.”

StationStops is selling the app on iTunes for $5.99. Reviews are thus far favorable.

Writes StationStops:

Just tap your station, weekday or weekend schedule, to or from Grand Central, and you get a list of all regularly scheduled trains for the day. You can scroll through the trains to find the one you want, or, even better, just tap any train, and the app will automatically scroll to the next regularly scheduled departure based on the current time!

—Tim Coleman covers the feet beat for Trainjotting.

As autumn brings the slippery-leaf-syndrome to Metro-North commuters, the rails of New Jersey Transit are plagued by a related trouble from the trees–overhead wire damage.

Troubles on the Gladstone line made a mess of Thursday morning’s commute, as folks shuttled bus and shlepped their way to the Summit station to catch any trains to Hoboken or NYC.

High winds and fallen branches out near Peapack were reportedly to blame for the slow commute and standing-room only train, but sharing a platform with two uniformed machine-gun packing men from the sheriff’s department and a helicoptor circling overhead made me feel safe–I often worry about attacking branches.

And as of 2:30 p.m., the wire repair work is not complete–and several evening Midtown Direct trains have been cancelled, with service shuffled to other trains heading west. Looks like I’m heading to Hoboken to dodge the crowds.

Updates at www.njtransit.com. Normal service is expected to be restored by 4:30 a.m. Friday.

–JerseyJim