I love you.  I know it’s popular to hate on you, like when ten trolleys (#36, anyone?  how bout #10? #11? #13? no?) go past before one comes through with my number (and whoops!  that one was full?  weeellll, sure, i was hoping to hang out underground a while longer!).    Or when your trains strand commuters in the burbs because of a problem with the power lines (i don’t quite get that – everyone else has power, but you?  noooo…).

But I have to say, you’ve been there for me.  Six years ago, we met for the first time – I wanted to go to New York, for cheap, and you were there at 6:00 AM, ready and waiting to take me from Delaware to Trenton (Jersey Transit took over for you there).  When I moved to the edge of the city, you were my neighbor, and now that I live in the middle of Philadelphia, you’re my best bud.  In fact, things betwen you and me are going so well that I’ve completely ended my relationship with that sweet little Honda I was seeing for the last three years.  Now, occasionally I do make a date with those cuties over at Philly CarShare, but you know you’re my number one. 

This morning, for instance – I stepped out the front door and there you were, my trusty #xx bus, ready to take me to the train.  I even got a seat! I pulled out the ipod, the knitting, and chilled out for fifteen minutes.  Thanks!

Y’know, you’ve got that whole discount program for monthly pass-holders – “Pass Perks” – but one perk you forgot to list was your lovely station… I’m a huge fan!  I’ve been known to hang out at 30th Street and just people-watch (okay, I was actually waiting for a train, but, y’know… i really was glad to be there!).  Just walking through your main terminal can stir my latent wanderlust… Harrisburg!  Chicago!  New Haven!  Miami!  Who could hear the “now boarding at stairway six” and not (at least briefly) be tempted to skip work to explore the Appalachians in the dining car?  (Okay, so I know this is actually your housemate, Amtrak – but you’re the real reason I’m there, SEPTA, honest …  I just have to walk past Amtrak to get to you). 

**sigh** SEPTA, you’re a little dirty (i think i’ve seen every kind of litter known to man beside your tracks and tunnels…  sorry, but it’s true…), but you work.  Your busses get me to Old City; your trolleys run me to Trader Joe’s; your trains make my paycheck-inducing day job possible.  You run, and you get me where I need to go, (mostly) when I need to get there.  Sure, you’ve got grit, but we seem to have an understanding. And though nothing could be more old-school than some of your trolleys (seriously, 1960s?  charming!), you make my modern-green-artsy-urban-wannabe life possible, and for that… well, what’s a little litter between friends?

love ya,