When was the last time you calmly walked to the dinky? Chances are you usually make a mad dash for the train, and it's not because you're running late; you just don't know what mood the dinky-men might be in today.
Earlier this year a friend and I decided to make a trip into New York. I arrived at the dinky station a little early and purchased the tickets. Five minutes before departure time, my friend's running form emerged from the Spelman dorms. His hair was still wet from the shower, coat open, shoes untied, tie clutched in his hands. The dinky-conductor started heckling, "Come on, come on! Train's leaving!" My friend ran as fast as one can wearing dress shoes, I waved the tickets, the conductor kept shouting, we jumped on the train — and waited five minutes for it to leave. While the dinky-operators generally do an admirable job, at times they are malicious and unprofessional. On countless occasions, passengers arrive a few minutes late on the train from New York, only to discover that the dinky has already left.
Last week I was once again stranded at Princeton Junction and decided on my return to call the New Jersey Transit customer service line (800-772-3606). The representative was surprised when I told him that the dinky often left before the train from New York had arrived, explaining that the dinky must wait for the connection — not for an hour, naturally, but certainly for five or 10 minutes. "Do they have a means of knowing how far away the train is?" I asked. Of course, he replied. In other words, the dinky-men have no excuse for stranding passengers. They are not committed to an inflexible schedule: they are acting inappropriately. All dinky-riders have had some bad experiences, but on one occasion Andy Luse '02 suffered a particularly offensive treatment. And unlike most of us, he did something about it. (Disclaimer: Neither the Daily Princetonian nor I officially endorse Andy's behavior. I merely offer him as an example of chivalric courage to those who have been victims to the dinky's ills. In case of passenger mistreatment, I remind the reader of the customer service number, above.)
"My girlfriend was here visiting," Andy explains. "It was a weekday in May, school was already out, and she had to catch the dinky to get to work in the city. It was tight, we only had a few minutes before it left, and we were running. When we got there and were purchasing the tickets, I called out to the conductor 'Hold on, hold on!' and he acknowledged me.
Tickets in hand, we ran up to the door — and he closed it in our face.
He just stared out at us, waved and left. Waved, and left. I was seething.
When the dinky came back, we were sitting there waiting. 'I would have really appreciated if you had waited,' I said to the conductor. He turned on me. 'You Princeton kids think the whole world waits for you!'" The conductor verbally assaulted Andy with words and expressions that cannot be repeated on this page. "I thought he was going to throw me onto the tracks," Andy says, shaken by the memory.
"Anyhow, I got my girlfriend on the dinky, and it left. But I had to have some retaliation. I couldn't let this go unpunished. I went back to Scully and the first thing to catch my eye was a janitor's bucket. I filled it up and returned to the dinky station. Of course, I went incognito. I was afraid of seeing a professor or something, so I had on a hat and sunglasses. The dinky returned, and the conductor stepped out. I tapped him on the shoulder and poured the bucket's contents over his head. And then I booked it."
"It was just water in the bucket?" I ask.
"Water and some suds, some residue." He pauses. "In retrospect, I wish it had been worse." Nathan Arrington is an art and archaeology major from Westport, Conn. He can be reached at arington@princeton.edu.
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