BVG

(BVG Office, just next to Gleisdreiek stop)

I hate waiting for the subway. When we lived in Brooklyn the “F” train became the bane of my existence. Actually my bane was both the “F” and the “V” trains, the latter of which was implemented sometime after 9/11 and added a transfer to my morning commute to the Criterion office. Don’t get me wrong, New York City has the best public transportation system in the US. It runs 24 hours a day, can get you anywhere you want to go for two bucks (even less with monthly passes) and is great for people (and rat) watching. I have an increased appreciation for the MTA after dealing with the MBTA for the last three years. In Wellesely we were one town too far into the suburbs for normal “T” service, so we had to rely on the commuter rail if we didn’t want to drive into Boston. I think I took the commuter rail about half a dozen times during the entire time we lived there, and most of those were trips to Fenway – the only really convenient destination from Wellesley. But even on subsequent trips back to New York I find my blood pressure rising the minute I swipe my card and descend into the bowels of Manhattan. I can’t stand waiting for the subway, and the transit gods know this – why else would they fuck with my emotions by ensuring the train I want is ALWAYS just pulling out of the station as I come through the turnstiles. Why would they send waves of garbage trains past me, kindling my hopes with their distant lights and displaced wind currents only to trundle by without stopping, leaving me more miserable than before? Why would they check to see where I was going and then invariably send my “F” train on the “A” line to West 4th (or vice-versa)? Why would they have allowed the “G” train to exist? I hate hate hate waiting for the subway. The standing. The sitting. The crying.

And then we moved to Berlin. The clouds parted. The angels sang on high. I met the BVG, Berlin’s public transportation authority. BVG stands for Berliner Verkehrsbetriebe. I don’t know what Verkehrsbetriebe means in English, but I think it translates to “totally awesome”. What makes the BVG so awesome? Let’s start with their website. Go there. Click on the journey planner for a trip from Rüdesheimer Platz to Kottbusser Tor. How about Rüdesheimer Platz to Strausberger Platz? See for yourself. Here’s a jpeg that should suffice if you are feeling lazy:


(suggested routes to Wannsee from Rudesheimer Platz)

But the website is just the tip of the iceberg. There is also a number you can call any time, day or night, where you’ll get a live operator who can tell you how to get from point A to point B. Not all the buses, trams, S-Bahns (above ground trains) and U-Bahns (under ground trains) run 24 hours a day, but never fear. If you stumble out of a club at 4:00am there is also a vast network of night buses that can get you safely home.

And here is the best part. No, not the buttons that light up as you enter a station, the buttons that you can push to open the doors even while the train is slowing to a stop. Not the designated bicycle cars. It is not even the open container laws that mean you can legally drink a beer during your evening (or morning) commute. It is so simple. At each station there are electronic displays telling you how long before the next two trains in either direction arrive. Not just on the tracks, but also above the stairs leading to transfer points, so you know if you have to sprint to make your connection, or if there is time to stop and get a bowl of noodles from the Chinese imbiss on the platform. Somehow, just knowing how long I have to wait makes the act of waiting entirely tolerable.

Of course, this system would be worthless if it was not accurate. If the sign says a train will come in three minutes and I wait 10, that would probably be worse than just waiting for 10 minutes without knowing when the wait would end. But this is Germany after all. The trains are never late. The BUSES are never late. How they manage that feat in city traffic and stoplights I will never know. And if anything IS late, there is a number you can call to complain. To a real person.

It probably doesn’t hurt that trains run every five minutes most of the day. I think the longest I’ve ever waited was 13 minutes, and that was well after Midnight, well away from the center of town. Actually, I know that is how long I waited, because I could read it all there on the electronic display.

Even the disasters have turned out in my favor. We tried to take a bus to the Grunewald S-bahn stop for an express ride to the beach at Wannsee, and in our haste neglected to read that every other bus on the 186 line terminated before Grunewald (and yup, we were on THAT one). We had to get off somewhere in the burbs, but the next bus was EARLY & we were soon bathing in the sun by the lake.


(map of entire system)

When I said before that the best part of the BVG was the electronic displays, I lied. The best part of the BVG is that even the track construction, or bauarbeiten works in my favor. Our train, the U3, runs from Krumme Lanke to Nolendorf Platz, where you can connect to the U1 for a trip East to Kreuzberg or Friedrichshain or to the U2 up to Potsdamer Platz, Alexanderplatz and Northern Mitte. The U1 is currently undergoing renovations from Gleisdreiek to Kotbusser Tor (if you plotted the trip I told you to earlier you already know this). Passengers can switch to a bus (which, naturally, is always waiting for you at the top of the steps when you exit the subway) that runs along the U1 route between these two stations. But here is where things get really sweet. The transportation gods in their benevolence have decided that during this construction time, the U3 will continue past Nollendorf Platz all the way to Gleisdreiek. That meant that I was able to skip a transfer when I visited the Technology Museum last week. That means my trip to Potsdamer Platz is shorter by about five minutes. Bauarbeiten, I think I love you.

And what does this cost, you ask? For 2,10 Euro you can buy a single ticket that is valid on every tram, train, bus or mule in the city for up to two hours from the time you start your journey. A weekly pass is 26,20. Julie and I carry monthly passes for the low low price of 72 Euro a month. There are no turnstiles here, so unlike New York, where if you accidentally went to the platform going the wrong direction, exiting and re-entering doesn’t cost you a ride. Everything operates on the honor system. You time stamp your single ticket when you get on a bus, or just as your subway car arrives. If you are a monthly pass carrier you simply walk into the station and get aboard, or flash your wallet at the bus driver (none of whom has ever looked once, let alone twice, at my pass). Germans are such good citizens that I bet there would not even have to be any system of control for these time stamps. But of course Berlin is full of tourists, so there is the rumor going around that there are undercover agents that can slap you with a 40 Euro fine if they catch you with an expired or unstamped ticket.

At least, it was a rumor until this week.

During a trip to MohrenStrasse, as I rocked to my ipod and spied on the family sitting across from me, I sensed a buzzing in the air. People were smiling and exchanging knowing looks. Had someone farted? Was there a mime busking behind me? Had I farted? Nope. It was the undercover ticket agents, one at each end of the car, moving through and checking tickets. I was so excited I almost dropped my wallet, eager to prove how honorable I was. Eager to show that I could never betray the trust of something I loved so much.

As I write this, it occurs to me that it would be far more entertaining if I had somehow left my card at home that morning - a great twist of irony cast down on the Berlin transit gods by their evil cousins in New York or Boston. If this was a fiction story that is how it would end: me in tears as some dude in sneakers, cut-off shorts and a backpack dragged be off to the gulag, flashing his laminated BVG Polizei ID and cursing me in German. But I didn’t forget my card. I just smiled brightly, displayed my card with pride, and they walked right past, hardly giving me a second glance.