Normally my subway ride home takes somewhere between half an hour and forty-five minutes, depending on how zippy the conductor feels that afternoon and how many people try to squeeze through the doors after they have started closing. Yesterday, my commute took a full hour and a half. Apparently one line (the A/C/E, for those in-the-know) had problems so it was rerouted onto my line (the F, again, for those in-the-know). Naturally, this slowed down everybody, but it also had the unexpected benefit of ushering into my life the worst conductor in the history of conducting, who reminded me sharply of a certain librarian.
A sample: "Gemmun. Ladies n Gemmun. Due to line. 8th Avenue line. Due to 8th Avenue line 6th...Due. Due to 8th Avenue at Canal line problems, we are congesting delayed due to rout rerout onto the 6th Avenue F. We will shortly. Moving. Gemmun. Thank you Ladies. Gemmun."
This same speech was repeated at least twice between each station and twice at each station, always with some new permutation and combination of the salient points, and more people grumbling and complaining in Deep Brooklyn accents. "He must be some kind of IDIOT. I mean, he must be some kind of MORON," wherein the Os in MORON somehow sound rounder than Os anywhere else.
This got even better after we had finally gotten moving and someone hit the Emergency Brake: "Lay n Gemmun. A brake this train. Due to a brake this train on. Train is, due to a emergency brake somewhere on this train. Crew is investuminvestumigating. We will moving. Please be patient, Gemmun. Er, Layees n Gemmun."
We got to hear that one at least five times, as the train stood there, leaning at rather a rakish tilt. I felt like Timmy trying to find out who fell in the well.