Once on the train, I had to find a seat that met the following three criteria:

1. The seat could not be directly underneath one of the PA speakers.

2. The seat could not be near someone using a cell phone or listening to music with headphones.

3. The seat could not be on the same end of the train as screaming babies, yapping kids, or scheming businessmen.

If, upon sitting down, I discovered that the seat failed to meet any of the above criteria, my sanity required I immediately find a new seat; and since there is rarely a surplus of empty seats on the train, I was usually left to seethe, to wallow in my own noisy bad luck.

My long-suffering wife, Alexas, has seen this behavior of mine first-hand several times. At one point things were so bad that we'd have to switch seats two or three times before I found one that satisfied my stringent criteria.

"Is this one okay?" she'd say.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine."

"No...take a look around and make sure. I don't want to move again."

Obviously this seat-switching approach to avoiding noise couldn't go on forever, and neither could the frequent intellectual discourse with train conductors over the loudness of the PA system:


ME: Can't you just turn the volume down? That's all I'm asking.

THEM: We don't have any way to do that, sir.

ME: (forehead furrows in mock surprise) You don't have a volume knob?

THEM: We can't do that, sir.

ME: What kind of train doesn't have a volume knob?

THEM: (sighing) You're welcome to take another train, sir.

THEM: Do any of them have volume knobs?


For the record, I have contacted Metro-North, my State Senator, and my State Assemblyman about this. I'm expecting a response any minute now; it's letters like this one that get action:

Dear Morons:

As a daily Metro-North rider, I would like to report the overwhelming, annoying cell phone usage going on in our trains every day.

To their credit, Metro-North conductors are aware of the number of customers speaking loudly on their cell phones, and I commend Metro-North's recent inclusion of an announcement asking customers not to be "annoying to other customers" with their cell phone usage.  These are fine steps, but they are not enough.

Metro-North needs to designate a "quiet car" on every train.  They need to simply declare that the second car on every train is to have NO cell phones.

I can't be the only customer who is bothered by cell phones.  Too many of us have had unpleasant run-ins with other riders who rudely act as if the train were second offices.  (Or, first offices, for those who don't have an office.)

For example, the other day, I had to reprimand another customer when she let her phone ring loudly for over fifteen seconds. (Without picking it up!)  The conductors just whistled and rolled their eyes around, pretending they didn't hear it.  They make announcements, but they don't—or aren't empowered to—tell people to shut the fuck up!  I pay the full fare just like every other customer, and I don't want to hear conversations which have included, but are not limited to, the following:

1. Pleas to girlfriends or boyfriends for forgiveness.
2. Who's picking up the kid at the soccer game.
3. Business deals.
4. A discussion with a gynecologist (I'm NOT kidding) and other medical-related discussions.
5. Dictated memos.
6. Travel plans.
7. Funeral arrangements.

Just so you don't think I'm crazy, I happened to find on the web a piece from 2000 about how Metro-North was considering adding "quiet cars" to the trains: http://www.trainweb.org/ct/cellsurvey.htm.

So what happened?  Nothing, that's what.

Why shouldn't Metro-North do this—add a "quiet car" to each train?  It won't cost Metro-North anything, and it will generate a lot of positive press for the company.  The fight against this kind of annoyance has to start in public places like trains.

I and other non-cell phone customers have a right to quiet and to NOT have to hear the details of other peoples' lives.  Won't you please take a stand and make our commutes a little more tolerable?

Thank you for your consideration.  I would truly appreciate a reply at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

A Concerned Citizen Who Fears Retaliation

I knew this was a battle I could not win. Unless some new universal remote came out that would give me the ability to turn down the volume on speakers, babies, businessmen, and cell phone talkers, I wasn't going to be able to control outside noise. Typical of my tendency analyze an issue as one would whip a dead horse, I spent a lot of time thinking about this, about ways to make them change. I conjured fantasies of angry letters to the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB), whose swift regulations would forever banish the noisemakers on public transportation. Barring that, I fantasized about carrying my stun gun and a telescopic steel baton on the train to deal with these people, but knew that only bad could come of this. After much meditation on this issue, I had a revelation, a revelation startling in its simplicity: I would have to change.

That afternoon, while at the pharmacy, I marched into the aisle containing the ear plugs. There I encountered a wide assortment of hearing protection devices made from different materials: wax, wax-cotton, rubber, and foam. I quickly realized that I wasn't the first person in my neighborhood to have this idea. Given that most folks in my neighborhood are older than dirt, I couldn't imagine who they were selling the things to. Probably just one or two wack-jobs like me.

Each package had a decibel rating on it, the majority being in the mid-20's. All I cared about was getting results, so I took one box of each type of plug (wax, rubber, etc.) and paid at the register. While still in the store, I inserted a pair of the foam ones, then went outside.

God, what a difference! I could still hear everything, but what the plugs did was take the edges off the noise. Yes, everything was muffled. It would have been nice to have total silence (something I'm still searching for), however I welcomed the relief the plugs could offer and happily wore them.

 

THE ENEMY: Public transportation, I've
observed, ain't set up for your 'individual'
comfort.  Hence, the word 'public.'

WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE: So many
people have written about annoying
cell phone talkers that it's become a
cliché.  However, I can't write about
not hearing without mentioning them.

I knew this was a battle I could not win. Unless some new universal remote came out that would give me the ability to turn down the volume on speakers, babies, businessmen, and cell phone talkers, I wasn't going to be able to control outside noise.

AHHH, NOT HEARING: Meet my new saving
grace: the trusty ear plug.

 

In no time, I found myself using them for more than train rides or walking the streets of Manhattan. Upon waking each morning, I inserted a pair before writing; the plugs work wonders by silencing horns, car alarms, and general white noise from the world outside. If I wasn't teaching that day—meaning I was working in the apartment all day—I kept the plugs in so I wouldn't have to hear the phone ringing or my neighbor's cockatoo screeching. When Alexas came home, I would of course remove them, but once bedtime rolled around again, back in they went. At one point I became curious about exactly how much I was using the things and figured that, out of 24 hours, I was joyfully not hearing for at least 18.

I'll tell you, I'm convinced that everyone should use them. Since I started with mine, I've noticed a distinct reduction in my irascibility. I don't get stressed because I don't have to hear all of the garbage. It's gotten to the point where most of the time, unless I'm teaching or talking with Alexas or a friend, I just leave them in.
 

Above: The author, still not writing.  He's
off shoving foam and wax into his ears.
 

©2004 Chris Orcutt and NotWriting.com. All rights reserved.