Jockeying for a Window Seat

I live in the Nearly Rhode Island part of Connecticut as opposed to the Gold Coast piece of the state which has tried repeatedly to elbow Staten Island out of its position as one of the five boroughs of New York City. 

Our downstate brethren have Stew Leonard's, gluten-free polo ponies, the private cell phone numbers of vegan Beemer mechanics on speed dial, and dozens of rapid rail connections into Manhattan every day of the week. 

We country mice have a vacant storefront where Kresge's used to be, huntin' dogs as big as horses, a buddy who works at Tractor Supply Company and Southeast Area Transit, SEAT.

I'm not jealous; okay, maybe a little.
If reincarnation exists, my goal is for jodhpurs and a home in Belle Haven. I've already cased Metro North platforms for a cool place to stand to read the WSJ on my Kindle until my backgammon partner arrives for the ride into The City. In these parts, I'm styling if I own my bowling shoes. Not that I'd wear them on a SEAT bus, at least not on the schedules they've got now.

If you rely on mass transit this side of the Connecticut River, especially if you live beyond the Thames (pronounced like 'thame thit, different day') make like John Alden, call Mayflower, and move, pilgrim. 

I really do miss the real bus and rail lines, no more than when I watch a SEAT bus pass me with next to no one in it, or am riding one because my car is being repaired and I need to allow for three hours to make connections in both directions for a ten-mile ride. It's possibly faster to walk unless and until Connecticut invents pay sidewalks and then you'll need an EZ pass for your Uggs.

If we in Southeastern Connecticut were to push mass transit to its limit instead of limiting its access, what might we have? Bullet Trains named Desire? I'd settle for buses that operate every day of the week at no cost to patrons (how else will we ever wean ourselves from our addiction to automobiles?) and become the connective tissue across our region.
-bill kenny