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I found myself caught up in the Septa strike quite by accident.  I was innocently returning home after an all nighter in New York.  In Trenton, I stumble onto a Septa train thinking of how good it’s gonna be to hit the sack.

I’m even visualizing the bed and just collapsing face first a la Ric Flair.  I don’t even see my bed this intensely in my dirty thoughts but I sure as Hell see it when I’m dead tired.

But this wasn’t an ordinary morning and my 17 minute train ride to Croydon was destined to be slightly longer.  The striking bus drivers and subway operators decided to set up a picket along the train route.  They were on the tracks en massé preventing the trains from proceeding.

This meant it took forever to leave Trenton and pull into each stop.  They had picket lines in Levittown and then Bristol and then Croydon.  17 minutes?  Try an hour and 45 minutes just to get home.

It was a pain in the ass.  You don’t need these delays after drinking all night in New York City.  I cracked open a beer since I had a 6-pack in my backpack.  The train conductor didn’t dare tell me to put the beer away.  Being stuck on a train isn’t a lot of fun but one must make the best of things.

And hey, I like soundbites and slogans so let them strike even if it fucks up my sleep.  They don’t want part time workers taking over their jobs.  They have mortgages to pay and families to feed.

Face it, nobody likes part-timers.  Well, poets do—well actually we like the concept of part time work—only need to put in a few hours to make it.  But none of us like the reality of some working stiff losing his/her benefits and livelihood and ability to provide for their families.

This ain’t Utopia by a longshot and sometimes idealism has to be subjugated by basic human necessity.  That’s the problem sometimes and bitterly I accept this madness.  I am jealous of the part-timers but I can’t dig the part about being a lackey in Corporate evil schemes.

But this long without sleep my only real desire is to crash out on a soft, warm bed.  I’m not prepared to fight all the injustice in the world.  I need a few hours sleep and some restorative coffee after to continue the battle.  And the sleep is being held up by this typical insanity of the New American Reality.

6-13-98