My Big Fat Russian Wedding

I knew I was in trouble when he boarded the train talking on his cell phone. I boarded first and for some reason he sat next to me. He was a substantial Russian man speaking in his native tongue on a cell phone that looked like a child’s toy in his enormous bear-like paw. By the time I reached Katonah it became obvious he had no intention of getting off his phone. What was he saying? Was it as inane as most cell phone conversations? Perhaps it was a medical emergency in the Ukraine and he was giving life-saving surgical instructions from thousands of miles away. Perhaps he was having one last emotional conversation with a dying parent on the other side of the world. Perhaps his son just made the Olympic ice hockey team and they’re skating down memory lane. Or maybe, he’s just a great, big, sweaty, pirogi-eating, vodka-swilling, card-carrying asshole. Yes, it is now confirmed. They have them there too. I can only hope he’s looking over my shoulder reading my monitor right now as I type my missive.

What if everyone had a Conference Call at once?

Today, I took a late train in from Bedford Hills. I call it the "amateur hour" train because it's a lot of students, retirees, ladies who lunch, etc. The moment I got on I spied a young woman who was asleep taking up two entire seats. Perfect! This is what's known as the "Snoozer Strategy." You either sleep or pretend like you're asleep and hope that nobody is willing to make the effort to wake you. As seatmates go, they're up there. In any event, I jumped at the opportunity to sit at the end of that 3-seater row because we're not likely to get a third person and because she's probably not going to make any noise at all, let alone talk on her cellphone. Unfortunately, she eventually woke up and proved me wrong. Not only did she talk on her phone, but her call kept getting dropped, so her phone kept ringing and she kept starting and re-starting the same inane conversation. Eventually, she started to imitate someone talking to her cat in a high-pitched voice. But wait, it gets worse. All around me phones started ringing. "Hello?" "Hello?" "Yo!" The little old lady in a fur coat across from me even had her ringer set to "Santa Claus is coming to town." Then it hit me — what if the entire car simultaneously talked on their phones? It was a nightmare scenario. I saw myself cracking open the side window and trying to squeeze out the tiny sliver of plexiglass that cants open just a tiny crack.... It was like "Throw Momma from the Train" except the masses would be holding me back from jumping, the ones wearing a Bluetooth headset anyway: "Nooo! Don't do it! We're at the Valhalla station already!!! Then it's a clear shot after White Plains and... and... Hello? I'm sorry but I gotta take this call..."

"The Willy Loman"

THE WILLY LOMAN is a classic cell phone offender. He is usually identifiable by his strong New York accent that can be heard anywhere in the car. Do not bother wearing your ipod earbuds to drown out his voice. It won't work. Willy is distinguishable by the explicit detail he goes into about pending business deals. "Check with so-and-so to make sure we're on target at 12 cents a unit" or some such garbage. His language is colorful and peppered with profanities that he is not even aware he's using: "Make sure the fuckin' contract is written by so-and-so" because he's not going to "fuckin' re-negotiate" or "fuckin' re-litigate" or re-fuck anything for that matter. Mind you, unlike Arthur Miller's character, this Willy Loman is likely to be fairly successful. He may have grown up in East Brooklyn, but he and his lovely wife/former exotic dancer now live in Katonah in a large house identifiable by its pillars and prominent Palladian window overlooking the grand foyer. Willy couldn't care less that people are bothered by his cell phone conversation. He's going to work whenever and wherever he pleases. At a neighboring table in a restaurant you unfortunately both chose, on an otherwise quiet park bench in Madison Square Park, waiting in line at the bank, and, yes, on the Harlem line of Metro North. If you know a Willy Loman out there, you may want to take this opportunity to tell him about this blog and how he's now a "phenomenon." You know how to reach him.

A veritable cornucopia of kvetching

One of the things I've noticed about commuting is that there is an inexhaustible supply of things to complain about. It goes way beyond cell phone chatter. For example, one of my favorites is the COFFEE CUP SEAT HOG. This is the commuter who feels so attached to his cup of steaming hot coffee that he insists on placing it next to him in the empty seat, as if the cup is just a hard-working cup o' Joe trying to make an honest living. Like it's freaking Juan Valdez himself or something. In any event, the Coffee Cup Seat Hog does two things: he makes it harder for someone to claim the seat (a situation he may or may not be aware of) and he puts a hot cup of coffee in a precarious spot between two people. I often wonder exactly what would happen if the train lurched and the cup spilled? What would he say? Sorry? Exactly how do you "fix" something like this after it happens and why is this adult willing to take that risk with a complete stranger? These are the things that keep me and others on the train on edge. What happens is you end up staring at that ridiculous cup of coffee out of the corner of your eye just to make sure you can jump away from it if it topples over. It's outrageous and these people must be stopped and promptly decaffeinated.

The Jerk in the Box

I am constantly thinking of products that might help fellow commuters cope with the discomfort of ambient cell phone chatter. My newest invention is a Jerk in the Box. Basically, it's a Jack in the Box. Same metal box. Same music driven by a cranking mechanism. The difference is that the harlequin who pops up is holding a tiny cell phone to his head. It's all in the application—next time you are plagued with a chatterbox on the train, you simply whip out the old "Jerk" and crank away. Everyone will have a huge laugh at the caller's expense.

Another idea was to create a telescoping wand with a tiny cell phone on the end. When someone goes overboard on the phone, you walk over and clock him or her on the head with the fully-extended wand. Again, this relies on a bit of public humiliation.

Then, of course, there's the cell phone jammer. They're illegal here in the US, but I understand people buy them overseas and point them furtively at unsuspecting talkers. Brilliant and far more effective than my ideas. But where's the public humiliation?