My fascination with PATCO was pure: I had no reason to go into South Jersey, and so, for a long time, all of those subway stations I passed when walking around Philadelphia were little mythical pockets of alternate existence from which people occasionally emerged. Sure, I could come up with a reason for a day trip to, say, Collingswood or Haddonfield, but that hardly felt legitimate enough to forfeit the mystique. Judging by the dress of the people who left the stations, PATCO served commuters; when I eventually rode the PATCO Speedline, it should be to commute.
I'll admit, I was appalled when the prospect of a Defector Atlantic City retreat cropped up. But while Atlantic City offered to my colleagues sportsbooks and blackjack and craps and a sense of glamour, it offered me something much less sick in the head: an opportunity to ride a new and mysterious transit line. Once I realized this fact, I was, shall we say, on board.
Non! Non! my coworkers protested. Why would you take PATCO to Lindenwold in order to make a transfer to the NJ Transit Atlantic City line when we have perfectly reasonable carpool setups leaving from Philly? they asked. You know NJ Transit goes direct from Philly to A.C., right? they asked. Are we really talking about PATCO again? they cried. Every time PATCO Slack starts up, I feel so severely brain-damaged, one lamented. I was slandered as a PATCO influencer, paid to advertise. I ignored their cries; I was much too busy imagining myself playing Persona 5 on the train whilst listening to my new writing playlist:
Here are some PATCO facts: The PATCO Speedline is run by the Port Authority Transit Corporation (not to be confused with the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, or to be confused with the Professional Air Traffic Controllers Organization). It was the first automatic metro line in North America, predating BART—South Jersey makes, the rest of the country takes. You have to press a lot of tactile buttons to buy a ticket, which is fun and interactive; unfortunately, the fare gates eat the paper tickets on the way out, so you keep no souvenir, but the memory lasts forever. Eleven of the 13 PATCO stations are open 24/7, and the trains run all night, albeit infrequently in the wee hours. 24/7 trains are a global rarity and a feat not managed by SEPTA, Philly's "other" subway. And, very notable to me, PATCO also has live timings; hilariously, after I hyped up this fact to anyone who would listen and several who wouldn't, the countdown clocks were broken when I was making my trip to Atlantic City.
I went underground in Center City with my luggage to purchase a $3, one-way ticket to Lindenwold. PATCO at approximately 2:50 p.m. on a Monday is not terribly crowded; I was able to put my bags on the seat next to me, guilt-free. The train passed through Franklin Square station, a stop that was only sporadically open even during PATCO's heyday and has been shuttered for low ridership since 1979. Where stations should've displayed live timings, the digital boards read "THANK YOU FOR RIDING PATCO." You're welcome! Then: sunlight. PATCO started its aboveground journey by emerging onto the Benjamin Franklin Bridge with some stunning views of the Delaware River. This must be what George Washington felt like, I thought. After leaving Camden, the ride felt much more like commuter rail, with longer distances between stations. At Lindenwold, I parted with my PATCO paper ticket with a fond farewell, and left the station to make the transfer. A sea of parking lots sat at my right, but my next stop was not a car. I successfully navigated my way to the Lindenwold stop of the Atlantic City line and, sitting on a bench, went through the much less fulfilling experience of buying an NJ Transit ticket on the app. PATCO, I miss you already.
PATCO has the 12th-highest ridership of any heavy rail system in the United States, right between the Staten Island Railway and Cleveland's Red Line. This ranking feels deeply incorrect, that a single rail line whose express purpose is shuttling commuters from South Jersey to Philly and back should rank so highly. But maybe that is the wrong way to look at it. Considering the country's generally poor rail infrastructure and addiction to cars, maybe the real surprise is that there even exist 12 heavy rail systems in the United States. This surprise you can note and then discard in order to restore PATCO to its rightful impressive position on the leaderboards, and marvel that even in a world of mismanaged suburban sprawl, a formerly state-of-the-art rail line can still have its own little niche.
If you build it, they will come. And soon, PATCO will be reopening the Franklin Square station. I will be there. As they say: P-A-T-C-O-C-O. Catch me riding the PATCO.
