2002-11-01 - 1:33 p.m.
Why the Path Train Sucks by Sam Mallery
I sometimes am in New Jersey, which means I often have to travel by Path. The first time you see a Path Train you may think, aww cute, it's like the little terminal-to-terminal people mover at the airport. This little crush dies rapidly.
There are many points I could draw upon to illustrate how very much the Path sucks. You know, how like last week, two nights in a row, large drunk men, big linebackers guys, fully collapsed ON me. Or how the trains don't seem to be designed for human cargo; when they hit these slight curves in the tunnel people are sent flying from their center of gravity. Why, just yesterday I saw an ample young art student get bucked right out of his seat and onto the floor. But no, the only experience need I describe is the time we SMASHED INTO THE FUCKING WALL AT FULL SPEED IN A PHALANX OF SPARKS AND FIRE.
Now I've purposely gone out of my way not to talk about this incident fearing that I'd scare off friends from ever coming out to visit me in NJ. I'm slowly coming to realize that no one will EVER come out to visit, so what's to lose?
A few weeks ago, around 1:30 AM late Friday night, speeding under the Hudson fucking River, the trian filled to capacity, everyone drunk except me, I'm on my way home from work. Before you get to Hoboken there are two tricky curves the train takes, and they're always unexpected. You hit them and most of the drunk people fall over and everyone laughs (except me) and some people go "Wooo!" because this happens at full-speed and it feels just like Space Mountain. We hit the first curve and instead of the train jerking violently back and forth we just dig into the wall. The sound of the impact triggered an inital shared reaction of horror among the passengers, and then the sparks came. Now, if I'd've had a little videocamera rolling, my footage would've made it to every news organization worldwide, Access Hollywood included. Out of the normally darkened subway windows came a shower of sparks and flame, eliciting screams of panic. Grinding into the wall acted as a crude braking system, after 30 seconds of sparks and friction, the train came to a halt, and, right out of the typical urban catastrophe screenplay, the lights go out.
Moments later the battery powered emergency lights come on. The woman next to me looks as though she's practicing a Lamaze breathing exercise. She starts to panic "I don't like tunnels, what can we do can we leave? I really have a fear of tunnels..." Instincively I start comforting her "No, no, we're alright. We'll be in Hoboken in a few minutes..." In my mind I'm thinking 'Yeah right. We're fucking Bar-B-Qued rat chow'.
This would've been a good time for a conductor to come on to the intercom and say something like "Sorry ladies and gentlemen, we've smashed into the wall. We are incapable of manning the controls. We'll be moving shortly." No. They don't say a word.
After 5 minutes the train starts moving again, very slowly, and there is a grinding sound. One girl exclaimed "This train is broke and shit!". We make it to Hoboken. The doors open. People get out. No one comes over to our car and inspects it. A few minutes later the same train departs for Jersey City. When the doors open at my stop I dash out to inspect the impact point, but there is no unusual damage. I was expecting a gaping hole with exposed electrodes fizzling. Nothing.
In short, the Path is dangerous. New Jersey is only for the brave at heart.
