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This area allows us to take Overheard on the Barcar to another level.


This area allows us to take Overheard on the Barcar to another level. Here you will find the inner musings of those individuals for whom the barcar experience has been a catalyst for romance or corporate intrigue. If you are working on chapter one of the great novel, at the mid point of your biography, racked by guilt over a barcar tryst or enraptured while in the midst of one, here is the place to spill it out. Who knows, you might even get some constructive criticism or good advice.

OK, maybe you aren't ready to spill your guts on the WWW, no problem, there is always intrigue on the barcar - It's happened to all of us at one time or another. You've purchased your cocktail and found a place to stand or sit and as you crack open your book or unfold your paper you become aware of a conversation happening near by. Maybe it's the tone of voice or a name you recognize that hooks you because even though its rude and you have better things to do, you can't help it, you are eavesdropping. Well here is where you can come clean and tell the world what it was never meant to hear. Assuage the guilt, confession is good for the soul and can be a hell of a lot of fun for others to read.

Back in the old days, I arranged a spurious trip to New York from Philidelphia. But rather than take the hum-drum Penn Central (now Amtrak) I devised an alternate route over the Reading and New Jersey Central, which operated two commute trains called the Wallstreeter and the Crusader.

These used self propelled rail diesel cars (yes, RDC's) but each train of two or three cars had a cafe section. Going north, enjoying my coffee and paper, sitting at the bar, I noticed reserved signs on the tables, but no occupants leaving Philly. As we moved north, people began to arrive and sit at their reserved tables. Obviously old friends of this commute. I remember one conversation I overheard.

"Don, did you just make commander?" asked one tablemate, referring to Don's gleaming gold collar insignia which were actually his initials. Don replied, "Hey this is just the new New York style and I wanted to fit in..." I almost spewed my swallow of coffee onto the counter.

The return trip on the Crusader was even better. As a newbie, I was welcomed into the fold, had a few beers and made new friends. This is the best of a commute. People thrown together, locked into a place with no escape and then making the best of it.

To take away this icebreaker is a crime. For the last 16 years of my commute, I have had access to a full-service bar on the ferry from San Francisco. I have made innumerable friends and we even went so far as to put together a band and serve snacks on the last Friday of the month. It was written up in USA Today as "People who love their commute."

But now the tide is turning. Our local rail transit (BART) has decided to ban alcohol advertising! This will cost them about $250,000 a year.

I salute what you guys are doing and I will remain vigilant here on the west coast to perserve our right to have a decent commute.

My sainted father visited me one time and rode home with me on the ferry. Cocktail in hand, enjoying the sunset and being welcomed by the regulars. He turned to me and said, "You really have the best commute I have ever seen."

To have your beer and chat with regular faces should be an inalienable right and no-alcohol Nazis should be fought tooth and nail. These are people who have no fun whatsoever in life and want to make sure that we share their misery.

If my ferry bar were under the knife, I would consider seeking the help of the brewing industry association (there must be one) to finance a lawsuit against the transit agency. The transit agency then can balance the thought of placating the misery folks against the cost of defending themselves from irate commuters. It's worked for us in the past, so you might consider it. Good luck with your project.

oooh my my sweet cherry pie come to me my darling...that's the first song my late wife marietta sang to me on our honeymoon to cape cod. Looking back I miss every moment with that women...her hair like wire..her teeth like rotted logs....her breath like death. her eyes like fire in my soul...oh screw it baby

Name:Christine email:cirvin@rawle.com
Happy Birthday Christine!
Have a great Day!

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