I’ll leave it to more interested parties to try to explain all the ins and outs of this dispute. All I keep hearing is “Healthcare” and “pay raises”. Seems like the union workers were working with the former, at the expense of the latter.
The last time we were involved (read: affected) by a SEPTA walkout was in 1998, and lasted 40 days. Hmmm…
Anywho, what does this mean for me, you ask? Well, since the largest portion of my new commute is taken up by regional rail (blessedly spared from the strike), It simply means hoofing it. My new exercise regimen includes a morning trudge up 11th street (or perhaps 10th, since it seemed so nice this morning), in the early light of the newly “saved” daylight.
Oh, and dealing with all the grumbling and smalltalk. It’s a character building event. Many people who would usually rather not talk to one another are all opinning about the strike. Or offering their horror stories of inconvenience: “I have to walk 5 miles to get to the train…”. It’s sort of softening the otherwise stoic nature of the commuters I bump into. Like we’re all in this together. Like our own natural disaster! Ahh… the benefits of tragedy. (If I had to walk 5 miles everyday to get to work, I’d be phoning my work in from my couch. Or, and this is the truly terrifying part, renting a car! AGGHHH!!! The horror! I can already feel the cash hemorrhaging away.)
So I consider myself somewhat lucky. AND I get a workout. I should consider jogging to the train! Or full on running! It’d be good for my cardio. And that laptop? It makes a great weight. Doing reps with that badboy is sure to work my abs. Maybe this is the best thing to have happened to me in a while.
And then again. Maybe not. Let the countdown of pain begin.