The route of my train was truncated today due to track work, though the route of my day was not truncated due to any work at all. While the G usually chugs across much of Brooklyn, arriving at my transfer point as it heads toward far-off Queens, tonight it traversed only 4 stops and one had to get a different G on a different track to go further east or no train at all heading west.
But get this — the 4 stops the 4-car shuttle made were from where I get on to where, yes, yours truly, um, gets off. “Fuck everybody else,” thought the MTA, “take care only of Andrew.”
Still, I am not happy.