Because The Long Island Rail Road Thinks It's Amtrak

If you're from Long Island like me, I am sure you have dozens of horror stories about the Long Island Rail Road. It is a complete disgrace. From the time they mysteriously "lost" my bag of interview clothes between two stops to the time they pulled the train over and called an ambulence when I asked for a glass of water during a panic attack (they had none), it has continuously been a herpe on my lip in going to see my wonderful family.

The mental prep leading up to going down those steps at Penn Station is never enough-you are going to want to kill someone before the ride is over. This Thursday night was no exception.

After a half hour taxi ride through midtown traffic, the masses of humanity trying to sell Ranger tickets outside MSG and the numerous people kicking Lil Bubba in her carrying case, I had a flair of hope as there was only one person in front of me at the ticket kiosk. Naturally, they did not know how to use the machine nor did they speak English. After 10 minutes they finally gave up, only for me to use the machine at lightening speed to find it did not accept credit cards (remember, cash is a luxury).

The LIRR, being that it is operated by the MTA, has also begun (well, always has I suppose) charging exhuberant amounts of money for a one-hour roundtrip ticket. Every reasonable hour is also peak, so double that price. My ticket cost me more than $24 and I was returning on a weekend day.

There is also nothing edible in Penn Station, so you charge a $3 piece of pizza that tastes like vomit and $2 water (you will need this soon, will explain) and you run with the rest of the accent-embedded sheep to the track board where you stare at a blank spot until three minutes before the train leaves and then you run with the mass with a 15 lb dog in your left arm, using the shrieking baby as a weapon to get through.

Pushing...sweating...swearing...

The 12-car trains have now been reduced to eight for natrually, our improvement. You find a window seat and immediately an obese man speaking Arabic on a handless cell phone sits next to you, forcing your dog to scream against your lap and you to laugh manically to yourself. A baby starts screaming, the bathroom is out of order and two Jewish women in front of you talk about inheriting or marrying rich to make it "in this city." You forget all your previous therapy and your pupils begin to dilate with rage.

Did I mention there are guidos drinking Miller Lites out of CANS? Forget about your tote bag filled with intelligent activities you have been meaning to do...

You find the water, swallow a handful of klonopins and try to blast the idiots out with your iPod. This is never loud enough and eventually you tire yourself out and nod out against the window. Waking up with horrendouse neck pain, you then have to somehow pull yourself together, because your dad is picking you up. He is very excited to see you and of course, you are in a horrible mood. Also, your train has come in on time, which means 10 minutes late.

This may sound like any commute, but at least Amtrak (for not much more $ to Philadelphia) has leg room, an outlet and a fucking bar car. Also, it does not hit people, have Al Roker tell you to watch "the gap" or make your back convulse from the duct-taped seats.