A poem for incompetence and inconvenience

David J. Danto

Travel thoughts in my own, personal opinion

eMail: ddanto@IMCCA.org Follow Industry News: @NJDavidD on

A Poem For New Jersey Incompetence & Inconvenience – March 2026

I live in a New Jersey town where the timetables all lie,
Where “Midtown Direct” is a promise that has long since said goodbye.
Where planners draw up “service maps” while never leaving chairs,
And every simple journey is a bureaucratic dare.

They blame it on the Portal Bridge, that rusted iron hulk,
A creaking, sobbing relic of some long forgotten bulk.
“Just one month of repairs,” they say – translation: more like two –
With a bonus round in autumn when they rip it up anew.

So every Midtown Direct train that once went straight to town
Now swerves off toward Hoboken like it’s trying to slow life down.
No tunnel into Penn for me, no one–seat golden ride,
Just a transit scavenger hunt on the wild New Jersey side.

First, the train from my sleepy hometown, pointed “Midtown” in its name,
But it slides into Hoboken with approximately zero shame.
Then it is PATH at Hoboken, dive into the underground,
Up to 33rd in Manhattan where the lost souls swirl around.

Then another local subway, one more platform, one more wait,
By the time you reach your meeting, you’ve forgotten why you’re late.
Three or four congested transfers, stairs that never seem to end,
A cardio workout designed by a very petty friend.

So yesterday, I hatched a plan, a cunning little trick,
To dodge this transit obstacle course that’s making me seasick.
“I’ll start at Newark Airport!” I thought – a genius, clearly me –
I’ll catch a straight–shot Jersey Transit train to NYC.

My son became the chauffeur, as good kids sometimes do,
We headed for the airport rail, where logic should shine through.
There’s one small road off 1 and 9, the secret little lane,
That leads right to the station in a way that’s almost sane.

Except – surprise – it’s padlocked now, for “staff and crew” alone,
A private road for people who already own the throne.
A single access lifeline, now a “thou shalt not pass” zone,
Because nothing says transit like “go find your own way home.”

Punch it into Google Maps, and watch the circus start:
It routes you to United’s staff lot – corporate Mario Kart.
You spin around a fenced–in maze of cones and yellow paint,
While the app chirps “You’ve arrived” in a tone that’s simply quaint.

I don’t work for United, I just want a stupid train,
But I’m circling with the baggage vans like I’ve misplaced my brain.
Somewhere past that guarded gate, the platforms hum and roar,
But the public isn’t welcome to use their public door.

“All right,” I think, “new backup plan, we’ll do it like the pros:
Drop me at the terminal and I’ll see how this one goes.
I’ll hop the Newark AirTrain, that cute red robo–snake,
Glide over to the rail stop and the plan will still hold bake.”

Except the AirTrain’s broken too, “improvements” on the line,
Replaced with mystery buses in a stop–and–go design.
You line up with your luggage herd, inhaling jet–fume air,
For a shuttle that appears whenever planners say a prayer.

So let’s review the genius here, the masterplan they drew:
Portal Bridge is under work – we all must suffer through.
So I try to start at Newark just to cut one step from pain,
And they close the only access road to the airport’s blasted train.

The AirTrain’s down, the road is blocked, the signage makes no sense,
And every workaround you find just adds another fence.
The shortest path to Manhattan from Newark’s busy hive
Is a choose–your–own–misfortune book where no one gets out alive.

Finally my son and I call “uncle” on this quest,
And flee the airport circus in exhausted, grumpy jest.
He drives me up to Secaucus – the huge transfer station domain –
A monument in concrete to the worship of the train.

Secaucus Junction, transfer king, cathedral of “not direct,”
Where every sign reminds you that your time they don’t respect.
But there at last, amid the boards and fluorescent hopeless glow,
I find a train to Penn that actually deigns to go.

I lumber in with tote bags, a bit more bent than proud,
A veteran of turnstile wars who’s survived the Jersey crowd.
And somewhere in a boardroom, three teams toast this perfect day –
NJT, United, Newark, all high–fiving “Hooray!”

“Look how well our systems mesh, it’s seamless,” someone beams,
“Customers have so much choice,” say the PowerPoint slide dreams.
Choice to take the long way, choice to drag your bags through hell,
Choice to stand in broken shuttles while the planners say “All’s well.”

New Jersey Transit shrugs and says, “The bridge is old, you know.”
Newark Airport nods and claims, “Improvements are the show.”
United quietly fences off the only sane approach,
While riders do the obstacle course without a single coach.

From my hometown’s sleepy platforms to Manhattan’s towering glass,
The people who design this stuff just shove you as you pass.
We pay our fares, we tap our cards, we show up in good faith,
And get repaid with scavenger hunts in a transit mental wraith.

So here’s my little ballad for the Portals of Despair,
For the closed–off secret road that leads to trains that are not there.
For the “Midtown Direct” that detours like a GPS on wine,
And the airport “people mover” that’s a bus stuck in a line.

If Dante rode New Jersey rail, he’d add another ring,
A circle just for commuters who believed the printed thing.
“Midtown Direct,” “Airport Rail,” “Convenient every day” –
All phrases that in Jersey mean “You’re not going that way.”

One day the bridge will finally gleam, the AirTrain hum once more,
The secret road to Newark’s stop might even be restored.
Until that bright and distant age, here’s all I want to say:
It should not take three agencies to wreck a single day.

Yet there they are, in perfect sync, a finely tuned machine,
Each fixing one small broken part and smashing three unseen.
So raise a monthly pass in toast, and let this rhyme record it –
In Jersey, it takes three agencies to win at screwing you, and they’ve scored it!

After decades of candid travel commentary – from loyalty program “magic tricks” to hotel check-in roulette – I’ve decided to turn some of that honesty into apparel. These aren’t novelty shirts; they’re the exact truths every road warrior wishes they could say out loud. Whether you’re quietly muttering “My loyalty points devalued while you read this shirt” or admitting “If delays build character then I’m the whole movie’s cast” you’ll find plenty of familiar sentiments… and more. Everything is produced by a reputable outfit, with black tees that work under a sport jacket plus hoodies and wicking travel gear for life on the road. The site also has my honest and snarky takes on technology trade shows. Take a look at Tinyurl.com/TechAndTravelWear. Even if you’re not buying they’re fun to read and commiserate – and if you do buy something, maybe I’ll break even. If you want a style you don’t see, just email me and I’ll add it.

This article was written by David Danto and contains solely his own, personal opinions.

All image and links provided above as reference under prevailing fair use statutes.

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As always, feel free to write and comment, question or disagree. Hearing from the traveling community is always a highlight for me. Thanks!