When it comes to my home station of Goldens Bridge, I like to think that I am observant to the changes that happen there. I usually notice when, at some point during the day, maintenance workers have been at the station (still repairing that winter damage to the yellow tactile stripping, I see. Perhaps it will be done by this winter?). I usually notice when people plaster the walls with various bits of propaganda. I definitely notice when the drunks kick the windows in, or the degenerate neighborhood youths graffiti up the station. I disgustedly notice the colonies of spiders that have made the station their home, and am mildly amused when they drop onto unsuspecting commuters waiting on the platform (but am less amused when it happens to me).

So when post-it notes began popping up in the evenings at the station, I noticed. They were everywhere. Even if you are not one of the observant riders, you probably noticed. Someone is trying to send a message to another commuter – and I attempted to imagine who was crafting these notes, and for whom they were posted. Beyond the fact that the creator has an English deficiency, I didn’t get too far with my pointless musings. Alright, maybe I was imagining in my head my roommate doing this, before heading to work at whatever gentleman’s club she is now employed. I’m glad whoever came to clean up the post-its had a sense of humor: they got rid of all the grammatically poor and overly sentimental notes, and kept my “fixed that for you” note.

 
  
   
  
 

However, if you ask me, we should begin a post-it revolution. Grab a pad, write something amusing, slap it somewhere in the station. We can certainly come up with better and more entertaining notes that at least have appropriately-placed apostrophes. Sure, it leaves more for those cleaning people to pick up (Whenever they actually come to the station, that is. Hell, while they’re at it, they can wash the windows so we don’t have to see crude phallic sketches in the layers of dust!), but it is less work than cleaning up graffiti. And it is somewhat amusing. Or at least I think so. But considering how easily amused I am, I may not be a good judge of that. Seriously though, let’s start a revolution to amuse people while they wait on the platform. Some of you sour-pusses certainly need it – after you finish up your breakfasts of lemons, of course.