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Yesterday, the E line sucked, big time. The train kept turning itself off at every stop, making us wait in complete and claustrophobic silence at each stop, and I had someone's laptop digging in my knee. At Government Center, every once in a while some static would come over the loudspeaker, announcing who-knows-what-we-can't-hear-it-anyways. Dr. Ruth wasn't working, the conductor was a bull dyke drill seargeant. "MOVE ALL THE WAY INTO THE CAR!" "THE DOORS ARE CLOSING! THE DOORS ARE CLOSING RIGHT NOW! MOVE OUT OF THE WAY OF THE DOORS! I couldn't stop myself from saying "Yes, MA'AM" a few times, clicking my heels, and saluting. I swear she kept trying to squish people in the doors by closing them WAY too early, when there obviously was still plenty of room for the last minute person to squish on. Unpleasant, to say the least. By the time we got to Arlington station, the train started clearing out. At Prudential, drill seargeant announced that the train was to be 'express to Brigham Circle'. This is fine with me, as I work there, but other people started bitching and moaning about this. The wors offender was a regular-looking guy-- white sneakers, tapered jeans, jacket, with bloodshoot eyes. He started to get agitated about what this 'express train' meant, and started the usual MTBA-style desperate questions to nobody in particular: "Does this mean the train is going to stop entirely?" "Where are we now?" "How far are we from Brigham Circle?" "I just don't get what this map means!" As this train usually gets to the Longwood Medical Area at 8:45, every person on the train is commuting, many of them in scrubs. One doctor-guy took pity on him, and gave him detailed directions on how to switch tracks and catch the next train. Finding an audience, this guy launches into his life story. He moves closer to me, and I notice that he reeks of gin. He says: "I have to get to the VA hospital, but you see, I can't walk too good. I got into a car accident about a few years back, fucked up my back." "I live in a place in Framingham. It doesn't take too long to get over to the VA (in JP), but I don't get this section of town." "The place I live in, it's okay, there are about 20 other guys there, and I know them all, so it's okay. We get along. I used to have an apartment with my girlfriend, but when I started drinking again, I lost my job, she left me, and I couldn't keep it." "The problem started when I got into the car accident. That's when it all began. I got out of the hospital, and I told my doctor that I had been sober for the past three years after about 30 years of drinking. I told him that I only wanted to take asprin for the pain because I was afraid I would start drinking again. The pain was horrible-- it got so bad that I had to ask him for something else. I couldn't work-- I do demolition, and so I had nothing to do all day." "My girlfriend started calling me on the fact that I was abusing the percoset, and I just told her it wasn't a problem. I knew it was. I even went to to AA meetings, but told them that I couldn't hand the coin out to the newly sober people, knowing that I had taken 5 or 6 percosets. I just told them that I wasn't feeling well. Eventually I just stopped going to the meetings. My sobriety was built on being honest with myself and with other people-- I just couldn't lie, but couldn't stop. My girlfriend left me, and I lost the apartment, had to move into the shelter." "We still talk and everything, but she can't spend too much time with me, because she has to protect her own sobriety. We met in AA, you know. I understand it, because it's true. I went to an AA meeting with her one night and the next morning met up with a friend for a couple of beers. I woke up in jail a few days later-- I had my second DUI, and that's why I'm here. I'm headed to the VA for detox. I'm really not a bad guy, I just have this problem. I really try, but after so many years, it just gets harder and harder." I'm not doing it justice, but you get the picture. His story was so heartrenching, so desperate, and so sad, that I (and every single person on the train) were all on the verge of tears. Through this whole conversation, the doctor guy who he was talking to let him finish his story, kept giving him non-committal words of encouragement-- was so sweet about it, despite the fact that he had only just offered to give himdirections. The train stopped at Brigham Circle, we all got off, and the doctor guy and about 4 people who had been previously pretending to read their newspapers gathered around, virtually walked him to the train he was supposed to catch. They all wished him "good luck," and that they hoped everything would turn around for him. What a morning.