In a conversation with one of my sons about getting from our home to Boston, I said I hated to take public transportation. The next day I was standing in line getting my senior Charley Card. (A Charley Card is used to pay for riding the T.)
It happened that I needed to get into Boston the very next day and taking the Red Line made most sense. The cost of riding on the T had doubled since last I paid attention. We were in the one subway stop area where getting a Senior Card would significantly reduce the fee. I talked my husband into our trying to get one. But what a bureaucratic mess we stepped into!
We were underground having gone up and down many stairs many times during this excursion. We found ourselves walking down a long wide corridor at the end of which was a small room inside of which several people were processing folk: seniors, people with disabilities. and employees needing special cards. There were long lines outside and inside the room. There were people sitting on the floor. All waiting and waiting. We got a number and asked how long the wait would be. Three hours!
We were told that it’s like this every day. My husband wanted to leave. I knew I would not ever try this again if we didn’t stay. Against the advice of the man directing traffic, we went off to have lunch, number in hand. When we came back, we still had another hour to wait!
Waiting gave us a glimpse of a slice of who we are as Americans, a very motley crew. And, at least, in this venue, a patient lot. People of all ethnic backgrounds in quite an array of outfits, from a priest to a scantily dressed women, from men in work clothes to women in dress suits. At one point i saw a women dressed professionally an overheard her say she was in a legal profession. She looked like my father’s law partner looked years ago and I almost fell over when she said her name was Helen, his partner’s name. No it wasn’t she, but it felt surreal.
The whole experience was strange, the long wait, being underground, the muted conversations. The woman sitting ncxt to me (when I finally got a seat) who had no idea how to match her number to the numbers being displayed on the screen on the wall. I couldn’t explain because she didn’t speak English.
The good news was that the people processing us were kind and helpful once we reached them. And I am the proud owner of a senior Charley card.
Having gone through this experience, I will have to take public transportation once in awhile. That doesn’t mean I have to like it!