Ah, fuck.
I actually like Awkwafina—this is not about Awkwafina. That part that makes me go “Ah, fuck” is that this is going to be a regular thing, now. We’re just going to have to deal with that little gecko telling us we're fools for being stuck on a fuckin’ R train when we could be getting a car and saving 15% on insurance.
This is annoying for a couple reasons. The first is relevant only to people who live in New York or visit it with any regularity (sorry): The money isn’t going to be used in any kind of useful way. Where is this money actually going? Is it going to fix the fucking subway? Is it going to fix the abysmal paratransit system? Is it going to subsidize fares? Is it going to prevent switch malfunctions at rush hour that cause trains to sit in between stations for more than an hour?
Or is it gonna end up going to fund absolute dipshittery like the LGA AirTrain, which is so clearly the most expensive, least efficient way of moving people to and from LaGuardia that it is obviously rooted in shady backroom real estate deals?
The second reason this sucks is that “MTA announcements as ad delivery vehicles” is yet another sign that we will soon have to endure marketing every waking moment of our days.
Subway advertising was tolerable when it was local weirdoes like Dr. Zizmor. Now, the same goddamn sans-serif font delivers messages from the same exact bullshit VC money pits that make The Perfect Suitcase or The Perfect Sheets or whatever other incredibly mundane product you can get literally anywhere else, and it sucks.
But while all ads are bad—more on that whenever I find the time for a more comprehensive “Advertising Was a Mistake” entry—even the Twee Sans Serif Sellers are fairly easy to ignore, especially after your first glimpse. They transform into so much wallpaper. Sometimes, the ads in a subway station can even tell you exactly how undesirable your stop is to advertisers: Do you see ads in January for a movie that dropped in theaters last March? You’ve still got maybe a year left before gentrification punts you from your neighborhood like a tiny football.
The LED displays that are infecting New York subway stations are worse, but still something you can ignore.
Subway announcements, though. You can’t ignore those. That is, surely, why the MTA is selling them to advertisers: Not only is your audience physically captive, they are used to perking up their ears—possibly lifting an over-ear headphone, pausing a song—to try and hear what important thing the subway conductor has to say. Coöpting these announcements for financial gain is of course a despicable breach of trust, but what elevates this to sonic violence is the fact that your commute is not only increasingly lengthy and stressful, but you can’t even use that increased time to blissfully zone out, unmolested by the forces of late capitalism for a precious 45 minutes.
Worst of all is that you, the person who must endure this branded aural assault, aren’t even benefitting from this. If you listen to a podcast that has ads, you’re at the very least getting a podcast in exchange for your time spent listening to some nasally Brooklynite read ad copy for Squarespace. But in exchange for your attention on the subway, Comedy Central isn’t giving you a free—or at least subsidized—fare. The MTA is not giving you anything extra because you are bringing in extra money in addition to the fare you paid; after a brief period of hope that things might get better, the last couple weeks have seen a depressing return to decay. You are, in this case, not even the typical consumer/product hybrid we’re accustomed to being. You’re solely the product.
If you don’t live in New York, think about driving in your car (ugh) to work, listening to your beloved Morning Mojo playlist, and an emergency alert suddenly starts blaring: The velvet growl of Andre Braugher tells you there is a road closure ahead, but hopefully you’ll make it back home in time for tonight’s brand-new episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine on NBC.
Doesn’t the very thought give you hives?
That’s what’s going to happen in New York, and surely this “innovation” will spread from here, if it hasn’t already. Bus drivers in Portland (Oregon) will sit at stoplights reading ad copy for Casper. The El in Chicago will tell you to get off at the next stop for the best shopping at bargain prices—try Dress Barn today.
Every goddamn moment of our increasingly miserable lives will be branded, and the thought that keeps pinging around the dumpster fire of my brain is how quickly people will not only get used to it, but come to enjoy it. It’s the most boring possible version of a sci-fi dystopia, brought to you by Sunny D.