While the MBTA struggles to recover from the media uproar and rider backlash surrounding the recent Green Line train crash, one would suppose the MBTA’s drivers would be scared straight. One would suppose the crash would serve as a, uh, wake-up call to the men and women behind the controls. But this was not the case on an outbound Green Line trolley last week.

Several people, including a Boston magazine staffer, witnessed a T driver repeatedly drifting off to sleep between Hynes and Coolidge Corner shortly after 6 p.m on June 17.

“He kept closing his eyes and dropping his head to his chest before jerking his whole body as if coming out of a light sleep,” says Jessica Lief, a special projects coordinator in Boston’s sales department. A woman near Lief actually tapped the driver on the arm to make sure he was awake after his eyes stayed closed and the trolley car remained motionless at a green light. At one point during the ride, Lief says the driver, “opened a window and stuck his head into the wind to keep himself awake.”

But the apparent lapse of acceptable service extends beyond the T driver. (more…)

Early this year, we rejoiced to hear about a completely bizarre invention called the Zorb. We envisioned a great company outing when the sphere made its way East. But after reading about a journalist from Maine’s Sun Journal’s experience with the ball, we think we’ll take a pass.

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For the first time in a long, long, long while, we agree with the Boston Globe editorial board. (You’ll remember these are the same people who brought us classics like video games are the devil’s work and txtng sukz.)

But like us, and like most self-respecting Bostonians, the Globe is properly pissed off by last week’s AutoVantage survey on road rage. The Hub came in second on the list of least courteous cities.

Naturally, everyone is @^$&! irate that we weren’t picked as the biggest (m)assholes.

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You know you’re going to have a rough day when the Globe has so much coverage about you that they can run it under one headline. House Speaker Sal DiMasi gets the treatment this morning as the broadsheet reports on the continuing saga of Richard Vitale’s lobbying work and reveals that the Speaker was receiving death threats during the heated casino debate.

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I almost died on Tuesday.*

It was all the fault of some hotshot pilot from the Vermont National Guard. As he and three of his fellow airmen screamed toward Fenway Park during the closing notes of the national anthem, he broke formation. He fell behind the other planes, then looped underneath and reclaimed his spot in the V.

The pilot’s superiors weren’t impressed with his showmanship, and grounded him.

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As some readers may remember, John Gonzalez nearly died after a vicious bird attack back in January. We had our fun with the terrified city-dweller, but figured it was a rare occurrence.

But no. The birds have struck again. This time, they’ve used Fenway Park as their hunting ground.

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In this post-9/11 world, we almost long for the retro Cold War worries. During that time, Boston Daily was too busy fretting about what would happen on our favorite Saturday morning cartoons to think about spy satellites and the damn Ruskies. We imagine it felt a little like waiting for the toxic spy satellite to be shot down—there’s some sense of danger, but the whole proceeding is so abstract that we’re not losing sleep over it.

But if toxic debris falls on New England, the Massachusetts Urban Search and Rescue Task Force is ready.

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I almost died today. It’s true.

I was on my way back from the gym — where I got totally swole, incidentally — when two other staffers and I happened upon an incredible scene unfolding on Mass. Ave., near Boston Daily HQ.

There, in the middle of the street, was a falcon. (I think it was a falcon. Who am I, Jack Hanna?) From a distance, the bird looked as big as a small child, or maybe as small as a big child. Anyway, it was large, and it was fiercely protecting some kind of unidentified prey in its talons.

Traffic in both directions snarled to a halt, and motorists beeped and screamed in an attempt to scare the bird out of the street. Didn’t work. Our fine feathered friend just stared back defiantly.

Meanwhile, pedestrians gathered and began taking pictures. It seemed like a good idea, and I decided to join them.

Turned out to be another of my many mistakes.

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