ConnecticEnergy popped in yesterday to offer up another dismal tale from the New Haven Line rails. He was sharing a four-seater with some Wall Street Master of the Universe out of Stamford. The Master of the Universe (MOV) was shouting stock trades into his cellphone for all the world–or at least the train car–to hear.
ConnecticEnergy is not exactly a strapping fellow, but he’s neither the type to bite his tongue in the face of foul behavior. Connectic politely asked the MOV, a burly fellow decked out in lower Manhattan finery, to keep the volume down, or move to the vestibule.
“Why don’t you move to the vestibule?” shouted MOV in response.
MOV continued his phone convo, buy this, sell this, something about debenture.
Connectic asked again. MOV snapped at him again to mind his own business.
A moment later, the conductor happened by. Connectic got the man in blue’s attention and told him he doesn’t like to make a scene, doesn’t mean to complain, but the MOV ass on the phone had been a major irritation for all on the car ever since Stamford.
The conductor looked at the MOV.
“Hey buddy,” he started in forceful language. “Turn the phone off or take it to the vestibule!”
MOV looks back at him and, in his best whiny 10-year-old’s tone, responds, “Why don’t you tell everyone else on the train to turn their phone off?”
Conductor sizes up his foe.
“Cuz you’re the one I’m telling to turn his phone off!”
Conductor makes his point with two sharp pokes to MOV’s shoulder with his pointer and swear fingers.
MOV recoils. Fortuitously, there’s a poster right behind him, reminding all on the train that striking an MTA worker will cost you big bucks.
He gets to his feet and makes toward the vestibule. He remains standing–and talking, and glaring–all the way to GCT.