M in Miami

Sunday, June 11, 2006

No Horsing Around

They wear a stiff, wide-brimmed hat. Their khaki uniforms are short-sleeved and a thick blue stripe runs down the pant leg. On their belts are all the tools of a standard policeman: flashlight, radio, gun, etc. In the summer heat they glisten, but never sweat. They are the Mounties of the Miami MetroRail.

Every MetroRail station in Miami has a mounty. While their responsibilities do not vary, style does. At my neighborhood’s station, the morning mounty favors a spot on the entrance side of the turnstiles, where he stands overlooking the entering passengers, hands behind his back, chin thrust out. Mounties at Government Center Station—grand central for the MetroRail—seem to prefer a spot amidst the commotion. Commuter tides roll in from all sides—MetroRail’ers transferring to the MetroMover, MetroMover passangers fighting to make the opposite switch—and the mounty is the unmoving constant.

This Saturday, venturing from my normal route, I found myself at University Station, a few stops from the southern end of the line. Glancing around, I thought perhaps I had found an exception, a station without a mounty. Could these college kids be so well-behaved they didn’t need to be supervised? Yet, as I stepped on the escalator, still swiveling my head around, I saw found gold in the shadows, in quiet observation of me. Despite my antics, he did not give chase.

Not a single one of these mounties has a mount, at least not one that accompanies them to the station, but in my mind they could not go any other name. ‘Security guards’ might be accurate, but mounties' uniforms actually fit. ‘Police officer’ is probably technically wrong from the start, and besides, who ever saw a police officer wearing such a hat, with a rim so sharp it looks like they could have shaved with it that morning? ‘Marshal’ is a good substitute on its face, but it denies their gentle, benevolent nature. Call them that and they would start clapping the turnstile-jumpers in handcuffs and would stop helping old ladies work the change machine. There can be no other name. Leagues from Canada, they are the southern mounties of the Miami MetroRail.

1 Comments:

Blogger d.p. said...

Since I don't know you as well as Zoe, I won't publicly say that you're insane though I privately think it. Rather, I'll attribute these quirky musings to your being unaccustomed to the intoxicating mixture of heat, humidity, and the oh-so-beautiful people in very tight, revealing clothing. It's all obviously too much for a NorCal boy like you. Let me sign off and check out what the other Mike in Miami is blogging. I'll be sure to share anything of interest.

9:41 PM, June 12, 2006  

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