Dear T,
I was thinking about our relationship the other day and can’t help but question how you really feel about me. Sure, I slip in my CharlieTicket every time I go inbound or pick you up from underground, but that really doesn’t seem good enough. Especially now that the winter months are here, I need you now more than ever. But for some reason, I can’t help but think you don’t feel the way I do. Rather, the way I did. T, I don’t think I love you anymore.
Our relationship started out so amazing. I remember all the way back in 2004 when we met for the first time. I was in downtown Boston staying at the Radisson Hotel when my dad introduced me to you. $1.25 was all it took, and I was allowed to step aboard you, explore you and fully understand the compassion and awesomeness of the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority.
I boarded at Boylston and was amazed as you emerged out of the ground, quickly transitioning from a subway to a streetcar. You took me down Commonwealth Avenue. You showed me the School of Management building, Morse Auditorium, Blanford Street, Noodle Street, Warren Towers, Boston University East, the College of Arts and Sciences Building, The Dugout and finally BU Central. Unfortunately, BU Central was my stop and I had to temporarily depart from your company for a couple hours as tour guides and other BU personnel told me about the university. I was sold as soon as I heard about the lazy river. Somehow, I knew BU would be my eventual college campus, and I needed to better familiarize myself with you, my dearest T.
Two years later, I returned — this time for orientation. I was excited to get involved with what Boston and the university had to offer, but I was even more excited to ride you, T. I rode you as frequently as I could. My best memory from those three days was after the final ceremony.
See, I knew your tricks. I knew that you were free going outbound so as more than 500 hundred about-to-be freshman filed out of Metcalf ballroom, I hopped aboard the vacant T that pulled up to BU Central. I was determined to get back to the hot dorms of Rich Hall, get my baggage and leave orientation first. To no surprise, you took me at marvelous speeds — up to 25 miles per hour down Commonwealth Avenue — easily past every other student walking to West Campus. You dropped me off conveniently in front of Agganis Arena, and I departed orientation in tears because I would not get to see you again until late August.
When I arrived back to Boston, I was equipped with something I hadn’t had earlier. You know what it was T? It was a CharlieTicket, which allowed me to use you whenever and wherever I wanted. Basically, I could ride you for free and it was awesome. As classes started, I took you every morning, afternoon and night. I lived all the way in West Campus, but you easily got me all the way down to the College of Communication building in a matter of 10 minutes.
Even more exciting was meeting your brothers and sister. The Orange Line and Blue Line were a thrill to ride as they could fit much more passengers in each of their cars, and your sister, the Red Line, was gentle, — giving me a spectacular view of the Charles River and city skyline as she approached Cambridge. The whole institution of the MBTA amazed me. I was in complete shock and awe. That is, until things started to change.
As weather got worse, you started to get a lot more customers. T, I thought you were exclusive to me. Very quickly I came to realize you weren’t about me. You didn’t care. All you wanted was money, money and more money, and you didn’t care who occupied your space.
The final blow was in late November when the announcement came that you were jacking your prices up and charging both inbound and outbound fees. Wow. I thought our relationship was different. You were unique and special to me unlike anything I’ve ever met. And before I knew it, a mere four months into our lasting relationship, you backstabbed me.
Things only worsened in December as new devices occupied the entrance of each car. These new CharlieCard, CharlieTicket and money-taking machines only delayed the time it took people to hop aboard and only made me wait longer and longer each day. More people were using and, in my opinion, abusing you. Our exclusive relationship was slowly dwindling away.
Like all good things, our relationship inevitably must come to an end. You’ve changed too much, T. I really thought you were different. Now that I have returned to Boston after Winter Break, things will be different between you and me. I won’t pay $59 a month to ride you. How dare you increase your prices like that? I am not going to lie, it may be a little awkward, but we must both continue to live our lives. I must admit, I’ve found someone else. Well, actually two others: left foot and right foot. From now on, T, they will take me where I need to go, and I know for a fact, they’ll never betray me as you have.
Brian Fadem is a freshman in the College of Communication.
