Skip to main content

My Daily Sexist Commute

                          

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
My commuter railroad has new cars.  They are beautiful, fabulous and a joy to ride.

I don't know how they did it, but the inside of the new cars is wider with lots more space,  and the train still fits in the station.  Looks like they re-arranged the seats to create more seating.  What I like most is that there is a hand rail down the center aisle for those times that I get caught out of position and cannot hold on to the rails above the seats.

The new cars have gadgetry.  There is an electronic map with all the stations and it shows you where in the world you are on the train route.  Looks like a version of Google maps.  There is also a video screen that tells you the next station, the estimated time of arrival, and shows safety messages.  No commercials, at least not yet, unless you include the railroad's shameless self promotions, "We are the greatest railroad you have ever been on.  Here is our latest project to..."

The train still has audio announcements.  It a beautiful voice, very soothing, and the diction is perfect.  The station announcements sound so interesting that I am tempted to get off at every stop.  Clearly professionals,  you know, actors, the ones who do voice overs for radio commercials.

But here's the odd thing.  The voice that give us directions, that announces the next station and the transfer points is female.  The voice that give us instructions, the voice of command that tell us "Watch the closing doors" or "Get your fat ass inside" if we are too slow in obeying, is male.

Who knew that this iron horse, dripping in modernity, and completely devoid of gender, could be so sexist.

Comments

I was listening to Bloomberg Business News about the falling price of gold - Christmas jewelry? - and they mentioned that one of the hosts, Charlie Pellett, was the male voice in New York City Subway. See, that voice of authority is everywhere.
Isn't that curious? Well spotted.

Popular posts from this blog

Memoir - The Year of Kent State

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
I wanted to write a fictional memoir and it got away from me. 

Original
I was born in the Year of Kent State. I didn't know. I was watching a cable channel specializing in historical programs, in this case, newsworthy events from the 1970s. The Ohio National Guard shot 13 unarmed students protesting the Vietnam War on the Kent State University campus. Four students died. By the time I was aware of a bigger world than my own, Kent State passed into history.

Im gonna git u Sukkah

by The Urban Blabbermouth [who may or may not be shown in the photo above... - v-E] ~ True story. I am walking to my car and I notice a couple of Jewish fellows, twenty somethings, with the bouquets of what looks like bamboo or palm. I know they are Jewish for they look Hasidic. They are wearing long black jackets, wide brim black fedora hats, and have curly sideburns. In truth, I classify all Jewish who dress like this as Hasidic although they may identify themselves differently. They are standing near the corner canvassing passersby.

Climbing to New Heights

by The Urban Blabbermouth
~
It started when I was ten.  I was riding shotgun with my father when a small plane crossed the highway in front of us.  The plane floated gently to its landing, like it had all the time in the world.  It was beautiful.  I knew then I wanted to be a pilot.  

I dreamed of soaring with the clouds and flying through them.  I could go anywhere the crow flies.  No stuck in traffic following a road as laid out by some anonymous engineer.  I could fly with the birds, although, I never thought myself a bird.  I loved the freedom.

But, I fear heights.  

It's not just any heights, it's low heights, the kind you get with stairs, balconies, bridges, and landing airplanes.  When I fly on airlines as a passenger, I look out the window at thirty thousand feet, no fear.  Somewhere between six feet, my height, and thirty thousand feet, airplane's height, lives my fear, a mysterious feeling that emerges from my stomach and rises up into my chest.  I can't…