Imagine my utter lack of surprise when I entered North Station this afternoon to the sound of a cat being tortured.
Apparently the elders of North Station, in their wisdom, have decided that the low bass voice of the text-to-speech PA system is too easy to understand in the cavernous space that is the waiting area for trains. So, added to the mix is a bunch of ethnic folk song rejects caterwauling their oh-so-politically-correct holiday songs that I don't recognize.
Does anyone at the MBTA or the MBCR have even an ounce of sense? Hell, does an ounce of sense exist in the collective body?
Sent from my G1...