This morning, I made the fatal mistake of not running to board the train that was waiting at the platform when I got to the bottom of the vertiginous escalator, deciding not to work up a sweat and instead get the next one a couple of minutes later. Bad idea. When it arrived 5 minutes later and people had boarded, the conductor sat at the station and cut the power. No lights, and more importantly, no ventilation. He made an annoucement that we’d be delayed for a few minutes, and sorry for the inconvenience. About 10 minutes later, half a dozen firefighters in full protective gear and carrying axes, fire extinguishers, and mysterious-looking cases trudged by and huddled near the end of the platform. They kept huddling and conferring and talking to a bunch more of their ilk who joined them for the confab. Eventually, they filed away, but the train was still at a dark, hot, and airless standstill. After 20 minutes of just sitting there, the driver kicked on the power and we were on our way. I don’t know if an unattended package was identified or what — the whole exercise might have been a drill or an attempt to bolster the public’s perception of the MBTA’s lame “If you see something, say something” announcements they broadcast every 2 minutes.

I should probably create a category called “shitty commute.”

Anyway, it’s a heavenly day, and I get to leave early to see some female indie rocker-types at Copley Square with Ezra and Terri. Yippee!