TRACKS

Like most cosmopolitan cities, New Yorkers live and die by their sports teams. Unlike most cosmopolitan cities, New York has the luxury of having two teams for every sport. While the true sports rivalries lie with our friendly neighbors to the north (thank you very much Tom Brady and Dustin Pedroia), New York’s “two-teamed system” has generated animosity among its natives. For example, Giants fans from Manhattan and Jersey believe Jets fans from Queens and Long Island have a 40-year “whoa is us” inferiority complex. And Mets fans from Brooklyn think Yankees fans from the Bronx are fair-weather babies that “earned” 26 rings with a mercenary roster of high-priced talent for hire. To make matters worse, the Yankees decided to build a new stadium during the worst economic recession since the phrase “run on the bank” was coined and now their adoring fans must pay a years’ worth of college tuition just to get a seat. On the other side of town, the Mets get to show off their new Taxpayer’s Field…I mean Citifield…while Bernie Madoff continues to embezzle assets overseas. And who can forget Bloomberg’s embarrassing flump of Jet’s Stadium which I believe, to date, is still an abandoned parking lot on 11th Avenue.

But this is not about sports, or sports teams, or their stadiums -- it’s about trains. And train stations. Like sports teams, New York migrants face two important choices: Grand Central or Penn Station. And akin to sports teams, allegiances are based (almost solely) on where someone resides or grew up. As someone who has been displaced from Connecticut to Manhattan, even a blind mute could figure out which station I prefer, but I would like to discuss just how far superior Grand Central is to the herds at Penn Station. In case it’s not blatantly obvious.

Aesthetically, there is not contest. Ten years ago they renovated the shit out of Grand Central’s Main Concourse and were pleasantly surprised to find the entire ceiling had its 1930’s astronomic painting of famous constellations still in tact. Now the “zodiac sky” graces the arch of the terminal, which has become a tourist destination and a city landmark. City. Landmark. Penn did similar renovations in the 90s. But by renovations I mean it swept all the homeless people out of the crypt and back onto the streets. Penn’s still waiting for that landmark status.

Appearances aside, there is a huge practical difference between these two stations. Immediately upon entering Grand Central one is presented with all essential “train travel” information. I.E.-a large clock above an information booth that contains train schedules and a living, speaking attendant. And, just in case one suffers from “can’t read train schedule-itis” or has crippling anxiety around attendant strangers, then Grand Central posts its train times and track schedules on a large board in the middle of the Concourse. For everyone to see.

Oddly, GC’s cross-town brother has not picked up on these basic commuter principals. So here are some rules when maneuvering around the cavernous corridors of Penn Station:

1. My biggest peev about Penn Station is the way they designate what train leaves from which track. Train times at Penn are posted on either a big board or TV screens…but without track designations. So everyone has to crouch around this signage impatiently waiting for information about the 5:35 while some Penn Station employee haphazardly assigns a track ninety seconds before the train is scheduled to leave. The onslaught that follows is a bloody rush to the track where “woman and children first” does not apply and you’re bound to get knocked over by some weekender’s oversized Vera Bradley bag which seemingly has Lily Pulitzer dresses in it, but is seriously loaded with bricks. This whole charade is like walking into a deli at 1 with no menu on the board and everyone (tired and hungry) has to wait for the day’s specials to be posted at 1:02, then charge the counter to order a pastrami on rye before the pastrami runs out and what’s left is day-old seafood salad made by the owner’s trashy girlfriend with long acrylics. I wish I could spout some rules on how to navigate this commuter travesty -- but its time for Penn to seriously step it up. MTA's subway counter-part deals with 656 miles of tracks, 26 lines and millions of trips a day and there’s never any question which train belongs on which track. What’s Penn’s excuse?

2. Trains coming in and out of Grand Central travel to upstate New York and Connecticut. Trains coming in and out of Penn travel to Long Eye Lund and New Joysee. Sorry, Long Island and New Jersey. You don’t want me to make fun of your island or your state? Then don’t make it so easy. Dunkin Doughnuts doesn’t serve “cawfee anna bagel” and muscle shirts don’t constitute formal-wear.

3. It’s the 21st Century. And as with everything else in the 21st Century, train tickets are primarily bought through ticket vending robots and not actual humans. The ticket machines apparently have a monopoly over the New York metropolitan area because the MTA uses the same machines at GC, Penn AND for the NYC Subway. Regardless of where you’re from, you have to deal with these machines, so there is absolutely no excuse for taking more than 90 seconds to purchase a ticket. Enter the first letter of the station you’re traveling to, pray that you’re not traveling peak, then insert either a plastic money or green paper. Viola! A ticket is dispensed. So when the ticket getting line starts to get long (which inevitably occurs at Penn since there are only 5 machines versus GC’s ROOM of ticket booths), I seriously contemplate the level of idiocy required to botch this process. If you don’t know the station you’re traveling to then you probably shouldn’t be visiting anyways. Go back to Brother Jimmy’s. And if you don’t know whether it is peak time, then stop living under a rock. But generally, the real issue occurs during the payment portion of the transaction, especially if the payment form is cash. For starters, always use a credit card – using cash stops the ebb and flow of the city pace. Those Visa Check card commercials are onto something. Stick your plastic in that thing and get on your way. If you choose to use your Andrew Jackson’s, make sure the bill is crisp. Straightening out bills on the corner of the machine is SOOO 1982. And don’t be surprised when $8 in change comes out in $1 coins…what did you expect? A certified check?

4. The silver-lining at Penn is “TRACKS” – the self-proclaim “raw bar and grill” on the LIRR side. I believe this is Penn’s attempt to compete with Grand Central’s Oyster Bar and while Tracks will never beat GC on the classy scale, it does offer fatty fare, draft beer and singles with pick-up lines like “Didn’t I make out with you at the Drift?” While I normally steer clear from these fratastic establishments in the city, there is something about Tracks’ shameless attempt to get Long Island commuters drunk for a quick make-out sesh that draws me into its “train themed” bar and makes me lie that I'm from Smithtown.

5. Finally, why is getting into Penn Station so hard? There’s a LIRR entrance, a NJ Transit entrance and a Madison Square Garden entrance, also known as the Amtrak entrance, also known as shady drug dealer’s entrance. Rightfully so, since you’d have to be on crack to pay Amtrak prices. However, Penn Station is not logically laid out and the various wings of the station do not easily lead to each other. So if you enter on the NJ Transit side, but need to get to the LIRR, godspeed. And forget asking your fellow transient for directions, they resent you for taking up space in their commuter life and would rather check on the Mets or Giants score at Tracks. Besides, you’d probably make fun of their accent anyways.