Fifteen Miles in Three Hours: The Broken Odyssey of RTD

We thought we were being smart, my son and I, leaving the Weezer concert at Fiddler’s Green a little early on Monday, August 28. It had been a great show despite some rain, but we’d been there since a little before 5 p.m. and wanted to get home. So we left just after 10, knowing we weren’t missing much because of the hard stop Fiddler’s requires in order to keep noise down in the neighborhood. In that, we were right: We heard the last song as we were walking to the Arapahoe Village Station, expecting to catch the E-line at 10:38 before the mass exodus from the show. In that, we were very wrong.

We and a few others who who had the same idea waited for the 10:38. And waited. And waited some more, as more concert-goers arrived and the R-line came and went at 10:34, and the E was still nowhere in sight. Impatience was growing, as was the crowd, with people starting to jockey for space near the "DOOR" marks on the sidewalk, realizing, perhaps, that there might not be enough room for everyone on the train that we assumed was just late, and would be cresting the hill to the south at any moment, there to take our damp and happy music-loving selves back to wherever we each called home, back to beds calling for us. Hell, it was a Monday. Most of us had to work in the morning.

The 10:38 never came. The signs at the Orchard stop were no help; they read 10:38 until well past 10:38, at which point they just flipped to 11:08. The RTD digital sign at a station should be more responsive to, you know, whatever is going on. It should be able to at least tell riders that a scheduled train isn’t coming. Instead, it taunts would-be passengers with the time that the train should have been there to pick them up until it’s insultingly past that time, when it changes nonchalantly to the next scheduled stop. Which for us was 11:08 — the last train north until well after 3 a.m. Everyone started checking their phones to see how much an Uber might be.

That was our chance, but we didn’t know it. The smart ones — or the lucky ones? — gave in to fate at that first cut-point, walked back to the streets of Greenwood Village and used a rideshare app to get the hell home. The rest of us thought eh, it’s only another twenty minutes. Seeing a show is already about waiting — to get in the gates, to get beers and snacks, to buy a concert T-shirt, to see the opener, to see the main event, and so on. So we were inured to the process by then. What was another few minutes? We'd be on the train soon, right?

False hope. The RTD “Next Ride” app was showing one train heading northbound, but it kept changing in ways that made no sense. The times kept changing on the digital display, too, as though there were someone trying to keep it correct. And the changes were minimal — it switched from 11:08 to 11:07, which for a moment felt like someone from RTD actually trying to tell us hey, I’m here for you, and I want to give you as much up-to-date information as this clumsy and insufficient system will allow me. But then it changed to 11:09, and the message from RTD was suddenly more like sucks to be you right now.

And it didn’t stop sucking once the 11:08 actually arrived — a few minutes later than 11:09 — and those who hadn’t given up finally boarded the train, already grumbling and at various levels of losing it. Most of us were taking it with some grim humor, but there were a couple of red-faced Karens and Karen-hubbys who were taking it personally and making it audibly clear that they simply would not put up with such an affront.

And they really lost it when the train stopped at Orchard, and a meek and tired voice came over the PA system, announcing that because of “traffic on the tracks,” the train would be stopping for ten to fifteen minutes before resuming operation.

“THIS IS A TRAIN,” said one outraged, beet-eared lady in cargo shorts and a haircut borrowed from Kate Gosselin. “THERE IS NO TRAFFIC.” And then she just kept saying it over and over, like repeating it would somehow get through to RTD. “IT IS A TRAIN. IT IS A TRAIN. IT IS A TRAIN.”

Eventually, the E-train started moving again, to some happy hoots from those riders trying to keep a good attitude about the whole thing. We made it exactly one stop before the same voice came over the intercom, reading from the same script. We’d be stopping again. Same reason. This time, the pause was longer. More passengers bailed, checking their phones for the rideshare they’d given up and ordered. But eventually, the train started again.

And it kept stopping. For no clear reason, really. Not even at stops. It would speed up and immediately slow down, come to a stop, and sit there. No announcement this time — maybe the operator was just tired of disappointing people. We sat there, incredulous that it was taking this long, that it was happening at all.

When the E-line finally limped into Union Station, it was half-past midnight. The trip itself had taken nearly two hours, and no one was even home yet. All told, including the 45-minute wait at the station (that should have been 15 minutes) and however we all finally got home, the ordeal lasted about three hours.

And here’s the thing: Taking RTD  should have been the right thing to do. Mass transit should be more convenient than driving through rush hour and paying concert prices to park. Otherwise, what’s the point? It had seemed like such a good idea. Good for the environment, and free beside —  for a couple more days at least, while RTD offered free fares through August.

But maybe we get what we pay for.

Because of work on the E-line, we've heard of horrendous morning commutes, too. Have a story you'd like to share? Make a comment or email [email protected].