You'd think that price tag would earn you some suburban luxuries, like complimentary peanuts, a moist towelette, or a seat every now and again.
Turns out, my fare has gone and funded this little gem, which loops infinitely on Penn Station's shiny new HD TVs:
The LIRR has been harping on "transit safety" and "helping you not die" for years. If you're not hip to the Notorious G.A.P. by now, you deserve to fall through a six-inch crevice and suffer a horrifying death by electro-pulverization.
Now I'm going to assume this tight jam was laid down by the LIRR's medical director Dr. John Clarke because Coolio is still on sabbatical.
I'm more curious about how the LIRR came into possession of the only drum machine on Earth that can't keep time.