Some people got no luck. It’s true. You mean to do one thing and something else completely unanticipated happens. Take this story. It’s 1891. Two kids are sitting in a classroom. One kid, kid A, is 11 years old. Kid A kicks another kid, kid B. That kid, who is 14 doesn’t react. But then he does. He screams in pain. Why? Because he’d injured his leg in a prior sledding accident. The next day kid B, whose leg got kicked feels sick. Four days later, he starts vomiting. When a doctor examines the leg, he finds the kid’s bone is disintegrating. Soon, the kid B loses all use of his leg. In a lawsuit brought against kid A, kid A is found liable and his parents have to pay damages to kid B. Did kid A anticipate that kid B would lose his leg? Probably not. Do we know whether kid A was just playing around or whether he had malicious intent? Nope. Continue reading
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It was a quiet week on SEPTA — for me anyway. Perhaps the hothouse weather pacified my fellow passengers, because everyone seemed to be on their best behavior. Even the otherwise-active subway kids opted for their headphones instead of mild flirtations with their peers. Hot in the city, indeed. Nobody moved as much as an inch when the homeless man on the C bus tried to start a fight with the driver. And he gave up as quickly as he’d begun. So it was that yesterday found me in a sad state of affairs as I met a Philly-turned-Berkeley girl for dinner in Chinatown. A little background on her if you will. This Philly girl, like myself, grew up in the Olney/Logan neighborhood. She’s taken SEPTA longer than I have. And naturally she’s seen more. So she told me her SEPTA stories. Five stories. And she told me I could share them with you, dear reader.
Check out the awesome project, R. Bradley Maule and his friends at Philly Skyline undertook last week. Brilliant, Brad. Brilliant. My SEPTA loving heart just skipped a beat.
“While suburbanites and their children very well may be boarding in Lansdale and heading to the zoo with a stop at the Spaghetti Warehouse on the way home, I thought the Independence Pass was good cause for a good project carried out by good people with a good eye (and a good reserve of patience). On Saturday morning, I met with The Necessity For Ruins’ Chris Dougherty, dovate.com’s Steve Weinik, and Philly Skyline resident Septa expert Steve Ives, whose archive recently got a much needed makeover… Continue reading
And that’s one less good person on your train.
There goes Brendan Skwire. Walking away from SEPTA in disgust. Photo credit: Ray Skwire
So here’s Brendan. Philly advocate. My Drinking Liberally buddy. One of my favorite PG commenters. And now? Ex-SEPTA rider.
Here’s what he writes on his (fantastic) blog, Brendan Calling:
“Last night I rode SEPTA regional rail for the first time in a few years. It wasn’t really by choice: my car broke down and I had to get out to Narberth to pick with the Dill Pickles. My buddy Nik said that once you get on the train it takes about 15 minutes to get there.”
You know where he’s going with this. (Yup, yet another SEPTA fail for Albert Yee’s collection.) Read the entire story here. Poor guy, he was just trying to get to his band gig.
He ends by writing:
“I will NEVER ride the regional rail again except for the purpose of entertaining my kid. I won’t even use it in an emergency: I’d just as soon take my bike or hail a cab in THIS city. For me, SEPTA’s regional lines serve no serious purpose: it’s one thing to add an extra hour to your commute when you’re trying make a train on time. It’s another entirely to add TWO extra hours to your commute because the trains show up 45 minutes late.
They should change the name of the Philly’s monopoly on transit to SCHLEPTA. It fits a whole lot better.”
Yikes! NEVER? In all-caps? That’s serious business. I can’t imagine never riding SEPTA again. I love SEPTA. Well, the people and the experience more than the actual entity. However, as Phawker’s SEPTA Girl, I should probably respond to Brendan’s post. Wait, why should I say something? I didn’t make Brendan late. I didn’t screw up his evening. I’m not responsible. SEPTA is. SEPTA should apologize. But they probably won’t.
So here we go: Continue reading
As if PG readers weren’t already aware of my SEPTA obsession, feel free to check out Phawker.com every Friday for a regular feature called “SEPTA Girl” where I go on about planes, trains, buses and trolleys.
Photo: Tiffany Yoon
Wait, that’s not right. Not a fan of SEPTA’s Black History Month ad campaign. Come on guys. Instead of spending money on posters, why don’t you take those funds and do something really worthwhile. Like, um, I don’t know. Spruce up the Broad Street Line stations??? Whoops, nm. I guess they’re okay now?