I was an hour late for work Tuesday morning. Scores of my fellow straphangers and I were stuck on the Market-Frankford El at 15th Street behind a disabled train. Some grumbled and complained, some sat quietly reading the paper or knitting, some sipped coffee or exchanged knowing, exasperated glances with their fellow commuters. Me, I whiled away the time chatting with Tom Ricci, a 20-year veteran of the Philadelphia Police Department, and until that moment, a complete stranger.

Five minutes passed, then 10, then 20. No one from SEPTA, including the driver of our train, was forthcoming with any information on how long we'd be sitting here, or when the train was likely to get moving. At about the 30-minute mark, I stepped out of the open train doors onto the platform and walked to the first car. I had a few questions for the train operator.

What's the holdup? I asked. I don't know, came the terse reply. Any idea how long this will take? Same answer. Is anyone from SEPTA going to come down here to explain to these people why they're sitting here or offer alternative means of getting to work? I don't know, the operator said before closing his little window and turning away from me, no mean feat in the cramped motorman's cabin.

By the time I got back on the train, the natives were really starting to get restless. Angry mutterings became loud curses, and SEPTA, of course, was the object of whatever vile epithets folks could come up with on short notice. Officer Ricci looked around the train then sighed. We had been talking about police work and the people skills required of his job, especially dealing with angry people. A police officer, Ricci explained, sees people at their worst on a daily basis. A cool head and calm attitude usually prevails, he said. Unless, I interrupted, you're dealing with angry commuters prevented from getting to a job they hate anyway.

Giving SEPTA the benefit of the doubt, perhaps the delay itself was unavoidable and unforeseen. But SEPTA's response to the stuck commuters, or more accurately, SEPTA's lack of response, seemed easily avoidable and only served to exacerbate the situation.

We informed our transport information services and the media of the disabled train, explains Gary Fairfax, SEPTA's press officer. In these kinds of situations, it's SEPTA policy to inform all concerned about delays or problems.

Well, that's all well and good for the folks who haven't left the house yet and were lucky enough to catch the SEPTA advisory on the early news, but what about the poor slobs who already paid the two bucks and are twiddling their thumbs on a stuck train? Shouldn't they, I counter, be included in the all concerned? Indeed, shouldn't they be the first to know?

We do everything we can to rectify the problem as soon as possible and to provide alternative modes of transportation as quickly as we can, Fairfax says cheerily. Quickly, I found out Tuesday morning, is a relative term.

After almost 45 minutes of cooling our heels, the operator's voice came over the loudspeaker. At long last we were told there was a disabled train up ahead somewhere, and that our train would be able to advance the short distance to the next stop, 13th Street, where we could disembark and receive a free transfer. After that, presumably, we were on our own. Five minutes later I was part of the crowd at 13th and Market, where more than a hundred of my fellow passengers who made their way out of the underground concourse were milling about, slightly disoriented. Sprinting across the street, I managed to find alternative transport in the form of the 33 bus, which would take me the rest of the way down Market to Second Street.

Here's the problem in a nutshell: My fellow passengers and I felt disrespected by one of the most expensive public transportation systems in the country. More than one person swore never to ride SEPTA again, and all felt that for our hard-earned two bucks, we deserved a quicker explanation. This is especially poignant since SEPTA's headquarters is right there at 13th and Market and presumably the transit service could have easily sent someone downstairs to help guide the inconvenienced travelers.

To his credit, SEPTA's Fairfax thanked me profusely for bringing the matter to his attention, and promised me that he'd get to the bottom of why we were kept in the dark for so long. That's great, but I really would have liked to have had that information on Tuesday morning.

Daryl Gale¹s weekly radio show, Dialogues, with co-hosts Rotan Lee and Bill Miller, is burning up the airwaves Fridays 7-10 a.m. on WURD (900 AM) in Philadelphia.