anniversaries

It's a strange thing to "celebrate." Perhaps celebrate is the wrong word. "Remember" is probably more appropriate. 100 years ago today 146 people, mostly immigrant women, died in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire. This was before unions. This was before collective bargaining. This was before worker's rights.

But out of this terrible disaster, some good came of it. Unions rallied round even more. New York State became the most progressive state in the country in regards to labor reform.

And today, the politicking continues. Democrats giving speeches down on the corner of Washington and Greene, claiming that the Republicans are trying to take away those rights. But in reality, it's the partinsanship that is occurring in Local, State and Federal governments that is our present day fire hazard waiting to happen. And the citizens? We'll be the workers stuck in the building with no way to get out.

early morning commutes

I recently started a new job, and with it comes a new commute. I have an earlier train, and take different subways. The MTA, true to form, has cut service, raised rates and still can't run on time. Recently I saw a self promoting ad that said "Improvements don't just happen." I love truth in advertising and the truth is improvements don't seem to happen at all.
This morning the automated voice announced that my train was running "On Time," and 5 minutes later it arrived. Once onboard they announced that it was an express train to Penn Station, with added stops. Not having any working time table, I jumped out at Woodside and caught the 7 express. I felt confident I was making back some of my time lost to LIRR ineptitude. I made the transfer in Long Island City and arrived just in time for the Manhattan bound E train.
The train was packed to bursting. My heart sank for a moment because I really didn't know how often the E ran to Manhattan from this particular stop; only a moment though as I saw one car with plenty of room. Hurray for me, and I quickly scurried over and in before the doors could close.

And then it hit me.

The stench was palpable.

I couldn't focus long enough to get a bearing on it's origin. And while I was reeling from the assault on my olfactory senses I thought of that scene from Silkwood and thought "I'm going to need one of those showers and a good gallon of tomato juice to get this off of me."

Through the tears, I managed to focus and there he was. Sprawled out like it was his living room (and in all likelihood it was), filthy, freshly soiled with rivulets of urine branching out and then reconnecting like tributaries of, well take your pick of any great river. I don't want to get into a debate of this poor soul's misfortunes. Failed by the system, society and humanity at large. I just want to focus on the situation at hand. That was a vile fucking train ride.

This is what stuck with me for most of the morning. I'm an optimist though. I like to see a silver lining; so while I was composing my thoughts I realised that if not for that lost soul and his not giving one single fuck I may have been late for work. Serendipity indeed.