A Day at Fenway

One of the goals of our trip is to explore American culture. Every ballpark experience is shaped by its fan-base, and every fan-base is a reflection of its region. One of the things we hope to discover is whether the popular regional cliches hold up, and to what degree. As we travel, we hope to share some insights and anecdotes about our brief immersions into these various pockets of American culture. Yesterday I went to Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox lose to the Blue Jays. Here is my anecdote:

When I was riding the T on my way to Fenway before the game, a hot topic of conversation had been the MBTA’s apparently new door policy: they had seemingly just decided that at stops, the driver would only open the front door, because if they were to open the side doors for people leaving, it would invite free-riders to sneak in. Passengers complained the whole way in to the game about the constant log-jam at the front of the train. 


The policy comes up again on my way home, five hours later, as a young couple with a stroller can not make it through the crowded aisle and down the stairs in the front:

(they yell to the front) 

Can you open the doors? 

Can't! 

We've got a carriage. We can't do the steps in the front. 

Alright  

*doors open*

Ten minutes later, the train stops again. The same demand comes, this time from one door further away from the driver. The requester is a forty-ish year-old man, carrying a large suitcase, and a hiking backpack. He appears sweaty, frazzled, and slightly mad. There is just over one train car length between him and the driver.

*train stops, front door opens*

(he yells) Backdoor!

(the driver does not hear him)

Open the backdoor! 

(those around him look toward the front of the train) 

*nothing*

Backdooooor! I’ve got luggage!

*louder* Luggaaaaaaaaaage!

(still nothing)

Open the backdoor! 

*front door closes, train starts rolling* 

No! Open the backdoor! 

*train accelerates away * 

*loudest* You stupid FUCK!

Boston.