Riding the T can be described as many a thing-- “party” is not one them. Between the belligerent BU girls on the B line Saturday night(s) and the belligerent 20-something trash couple I witnessed shouting racial slurs on the B line at 10 o’clock this morning, making our miserable ways on mass-transit is usually the worst part of the day. Yes, worse than the often unbearable heat, worse than pit stains,
and worse than an overly happy Brady Bunch of kids trying to lure you into their cult of Redbull-and-bad-bro-song fueled hyperactivity.
Tomfoolery, a group founded by some “Mullen Advertising interns on a mission to bring laughter back to adulthood” (who ever said we were lacking the adequate amount of laughter?) paired up with City of Firsts, a “social media initiative that encourages people to share their favorite Boston firsts” to organize a T stampede to bring cheer to this T-riding bunch--
that clearly were not picking up what these pom-pom aficionados were glittering down.
There’s a reason most-to-all T riders either spend the entirety of their above/underground journeys wearing headphones and rocking their eardrums off, nearly straining their eyeballs off in a book/paper/tablet of some sort, or both. We don’t want to be cheered up. It’s like gaining your virginity back-- it’s just not going to happen,
no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you’re still that innoce-- okay point proven.
Someone trying to make you freakishly happy-go-lucky when you have already been glancing up from this week’s Dig every now and then with the sole objective of shooting evil rays of death into the eyes of the prostiTOT who won’t offer the 80-year-old Parkinson’s man her seat will only make you angrier.