
Sometimes, when I find myself trapped underground, being slowly smothered by my neighbors' winter parkas during another one of the MTA's unscheduled, epoch-long "service changes," I think about how all this might have been avoided. What could our transit authority have done differently to prevent that
chunk of falling ceiling from beaning this unfortunate straphanger on the head? How many fingers must we sacrifice
prying open this F train's automatic doors before the state coughs up a cash hairball large enough to finance repairs? [
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from Gothamist https://ift.tt/2ARKQp8
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