n Incessant complaining concerning the T is not a reflection on Boston University’s uninformed student population (“Trouble with T too tired a topic,” Mar. 23, p. 7).
It is a genuine expression of concern for pressing student issues. Why should we cease discussing issues that are central to our lives just because they are not resolved? It seems backward to write off our cares as a lack of concern for “real news.” Maybe Matt Convente should recognize our “complaining” for what it is, and not suggest a sarcastic approach to other important issues.
I navigate the T battleground up to six times a day, checking old ladies into poles and intruding on the T driver’s personal space. If it delays my trip to BU’s $200-an-hour classes, I am going to be angry.
It should infuriate Convente, too, if the MBTA fails to provide efficient service, especially after effectively doubling rates. When my car or motorcycle breaks down at home, the Hulk in me wants to break things. Unfortunately, I cannot replace the oil on T cars to help them run more smoothly. Why not hold the same standard to our transportation in Boston?
How can Convente possibly compare the New York City subway’s strike to the MBTA’s daily malfeasance? They are in two separate realms: one transpired by contract negotiation breakdowns with employees, the other results from gross mismanagement. I traversed the NYC Subway this past weekend with its $2 fares. It was seemingly climate controlled, spacious and efficient. The T I took back from South Station after my NYC trip was a packed single car, and the operator opened only one set of doors.
Poor you, says Convente, who had to endure an uncomfortable, slow and dirty T. To me, the T seems a more fitting description of an awkward homeless man more so than my transportation.
Perhaps Convente suggests I accept defeat and get a car. I attempted that this past weekend, racking up $65 in tickets in the first 24 hours. Last year, I waved the white flag and had a car for three days, getting it towed. I love 6 a.m. trips to Watertown to pay $100-plus dollars to a man who can legally abscond with my property into the dark Boston night.
Perhaps it is my fault for neglecting all street signs, perhaps not. This past semester saw my exacting revenge as I defeated the city by having a motorcycle and shirking meter responsibilities. Perhaps if Convente’s walk from Claflin Hall to the College of Fine Arts was longer, he might feel our pain. Griggs Street to the School of Management is just slightly further.
Convente seems to have an altered perception of reality. I suggest he take the narrow BU political spectrum for what it is — limited, but passionate. The T is like oxygen — necessary to living, seemingly routine when readily available and devastating when I have to wait 30 minutes to get it. The T permeates our lives to a scary extent.
Some of us literally plan our days around it. Maybe Convente has alternate modes of transportation, perhaps not, but I ask that he please respect his peers’ passionate opinions.
Rich Selsky
SMG ’08