I live in Brooklyn. Specifically, I live in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, which is infamous for being a neighborhood that is only accessible via the G Train. And the G Train is infamous for being the only train that never touches Manhattan, it serves Brooklyn and Queens exclusively. It also has a bad reputation for being unreliable, taking forever to arrive or, on the weekends, never running at all. It’s half the size of normal trains, so if it’s coming you have to run to make sure you make it to a part of the platform that will end up adjacent to cars.
Because of this I get the head tilt of pity when I tell folks where I live.
“Ohhh. That’s on the G, isn’t it?”
Why, yes. Yes, it is.
However, I have lived on the G line for at least half my time here and found if you just have faith, like real faith, it won’t let you down. It is 100x more pleasant to ride during rush hour than the more popular, cool L Train. I always have a seat, I get to read my book (a lot) and… well… when I’m tipsy at 10PM on a school night the wait allows me to a) sober up before bed, b) jam out to my ipod while c) people-watching the other colorful tipsy folks jamming out to their ipods and watching me. It’s a circle of fraternal good times, people.
So in defense of the G – I wouldn’t have it any other way. In a world where everything moves way too fast, I welcome the forced stop time. My commute is blue collar. My fingernails, dirty. I would join a G Union if there was one. In the immortal lyrics of Warren G (no relation), “Just rollin in my ride…”