Monday October 11, 2004, 5:30pm
Monday October 11, 2004, 5:30pm
Beside our train from the subterranean earth like a giant desert worm from Dune an Orange Line subway train climbs to the surface world before drifting into Back Bay Station. Those same subway rails drop back into the same earth a mile east from here, and it is a mystery why the Orange Line bothers to rise to the surface at all.
Rising and falling describes what must lay ahead for the collective mood of this city because tomorrow night the Red Sox visit Yankee Stadium to renew what may well be the most epic battle in the history of organized baseball (except perhaps for the ancient cross-town rivalries before the Dodgers and Giants moved to California). Of course I am biased, but not way off base here – I am a baseball fan first and a Red Sox fan second, and I know an epic baseball series when I see one looming on the horizon.
Next week I’ll have a bit of a reprieve – a business trip to the home office in Virginia, and then it’s back here to face the music again – autumn and my seasonal battle with the monster. It comes too soon each year and leaves long past its welcome – that dark cloud reinforced by the impending shadows of the Old Man.
“West Newton. Station Stop is West Newton West Newton.”
“Auburndale is next. Auburndale, next.”
“Auburndale. Station stop is Auburndale. Auburndale.”
“Wellesley Farms, next stop. Wellesley Farms, next.”
“Wellesley Farms. Stop is Wellesley Farms.”
“Wellesley Hills next.”
“Wellesley Hills next.”
“Wellesley Hills. For your safety, please look both ways before crossing the tracks at Wellesley Hills.”
“Wellesley Square is next.”
“Wellesley Square next.”
“Wellesley Square. Stop is Wellesley Square.”
“Wellesley Square.”
“Natick next. Natick next.”
“Natick next.”
“Natick.”
“Natick. Stop is Natick.”
“West Natick next.”
“West Natick. West Natick. Please look both ways before crossing the tracks at West Natick.”
“West Natick.”
“West Natick Station. Please use caution when crossing the tracks here at West Natick, and have a good night.”
Framin’ham next.”
“Framingham. Station stop is Framingham.”
“Framin’ham. Framin’ham.”
“Can I have your attention please? Because of track construction ahead, they’ll be holdin’ us here for two inbound trains. So we’ll be here until then. And when you see two trains come by then we’ll be on our way. Sorry ‘bout the inconvenience.”
Looks like my plan to simply scribe a list of station stops and call this journal a night isn’t going to be that simple. Stuck here, I could scan for suspicious characters lurking in the shadows of Framingham Station, or I could write. I’m not actually very worried since those two guys from last Wednesday night are already in jail and I’m guessing that we’re well into the routine posting of extra patrols now that the horses have fled the barn – a cop or two lurking out there in the dark instead of evil-doers. Humans have that problem – dangerous events lead to furious efforts only after the danger has passed. Perhaps this happens because we can’t imagine every risk, and we feel a lot safer when the latest passing danger is officially smothered.
“Once again, we’re waitin’ for two inbound trains. As soon as those trains come through, we’ll be on our way. Once again, sorry for the inconvenience.”
Risk-avoidance seems best understood by observing from opposite poles, for the moment viewing only the probability that a dangerous event will or will not happen. To state the obvious (though I do have a point)… the total combination of all odds – safety plus danger – should equal a chance of one in one, which means we can be 100% certain that an event will either happen or it won’t happen. Therefore (not stating the obvious) rather than seeing risk as something than can be driven entirely to zero, the goal is to adjust the proportion of risk so the smaller portion resides in the danger zone and the greater portion in the safety zone.
The goal of ‘zero risk’ in any form implies an impossible level of perfection, and as such severely skews and wastes effort needed for overall risk reduction. As long as there are cars and pedestrians the risk will always exist that a car may hit somebody. And since we can’t reasonably ban automobiles and trucks from the road or people from sidewalks, I can never be 100% safe during the walking portions of my commute. But I can make reasonable decisions to take me a bit farther from danger.
“Once again, we’re delayed waitin’ for two trains coming the other way. One train is just now pullin’ into the station. And once the other one passes by we’ll be on our way.”
Moments later a noisy eastbound locomotive leads the way past my window. I’m guessing an Amtrak Metroliner since it’s far more likely to see an Amtak locomotive leading the way east-bound – unlike the commuter trains that head towards Boston with a trailing engine. But it’s too dark to tell for sure.
It’s time to use my own cell phone to say how I’m running late – and from this I learn that a train has just rolled through Ashland heading our way, so we should be moving soon. As long as our train leaves Framingham in the next fifteen minutes I won’t miss any time with Arthur tonight, though my dinner may have to wait.
As expected I now see flashing strobe lights warning the empty platforms of Framingham Station. A moment later I hear an approaching train and then see the train itself – a double-decker commuter creasing the night.
“As soon as this train passes by us – hopefully – they’ll release us and we can be on our way. Hopefully.”
That word hopefully only serves to drain any sense of hope, but a few seconds later, our collective and official aspirations are fulfilled as this 5:30pm Worcester Local lurches forward, and indeed, we are underway.
Most likely tonight I really will show up on the “wrong” side of the station as has been predicted many days lately. But this time at least I may just wander across the tracks rather than the safety of the station stairway towers, since the chain link fence is hopefully still gone and hopefully I really do know what I’m doing.
Yeah, we just switched tracks, so I’d better plan my escape.
