In movies and books, love sparks like this:
A low-lit room, soft music, murmurs and laughter and perhaps the tinkling sounds of glasses toasting. Two people spot each other, their eyes lock, they move toward each other. They talk for hours.
This is another version:
The crowded R6 platform, the rattle of rails as the train pulls in. She rushes to the newspaper box to grab something to read. He hands her a paper, says "Hello," then gets on the train.
Then he does it again. And again. Finally, he introduces himself. They go on their first date the next day, and the onetime strangers - she called him the "Spiky-Haired Cute Guy From the Train," and she was "Hot Girl From the Train" - have been coupled ever since.
Jason and Jennifer Ganister - who later had wedding photos taken at the Wissahickon station - are among about 100 couples who submitted their stories in SEPTA's "Did you find love on SEPTA?" contest. The winners - an appropriate 14 in all with the most "moving" stories - win a Valentine's Day ride on the Love Train, a specially appointed Market-Frankford train that will take them on a tour of the Mural Arts Program's "Love Letter" project. Best viewed from the El, the rooftop murals from 45th to 63d Street depict love letters between a young man and the object of his unrequited love.
After the ride, Mural Arts will treat the contest winners to a champagne reception at SEPTA headquarters. (Non-winning couples can join for $75. Singles can hop aboard - for a possible love connection - for $40.)
It's a way for SEPTA, which suffered a black eye in November when workers went on a weeklong strike, to honor couples like the Ganisters and their positive transit spin.
"Having their name out there, giving people something to talk and smile about, is great publicity for SEPTA," said Michael Maynard, an advertising professor at Temple University. "It's very clever on the brand's part to get people involved."
So the Ganisters, who now live in Center City and don't commute as often, can rekindle fond memories of the company that brought them together in January 2005. They can debate whether he progressively moved down the platform each day to get closer to her. (She says he did; he says he doesn't remember.) They can come clean about their intentions: Jason, 30, admitted that Jen, 35, wasn't the only woman to whom he'd handed a newspaper. "I'd arrive at the box and if I had it open first, I'd just give people the paper," he said. "The timing probably worked out for Jen."
The contest was the idea of SEPTA spokeswoman Jerri Williams. When she rides the Broad Street Line, she often witnesses the same couple in their mid-20s holding hands on the platform, keeping hands clasped on the train, and then parting at City Hall. Williams began to wonder about their romance.
"If you can connect with someone at a club or at work, why not during the 20 minutes to an hour you're commuting?" Williams said. "If you're looking for someone, check 'em out on the El or the Broad Street Line or Regional Rail. It's a good opportunity to watch someone from afar for a few weeks before you make that approach."
Tracy Tomchik-Nyszczot, 29, first noticed her future husband in Suburban Station. Michael Nyszczot, also 29, was cute, she said, but looked really stressed out. He preferred to sleep or read on the train, so Tomchik-Nyszczot didn't get to talk to him until she ran into him one night at a bar.
"I said, 'What are you, too cool for the R7?' " the Northeast Philadelphia resident recalled. "We just talked for hours and then we made a date."
The couple had their first kiss at the Croydon station, got engaged outside Suburban, and featured the R7 at their 2008 wedding: Guests were seated at tables named for station stops, and their favors were mini-trains.
No one in the Tomchik-Nyszczot family thought that was the least bit odd: Her parents met as toll collectors. Her brother met his wife while both were working at an airport.
"We're a planes, trains, and automobiles family," she said.
Judging from the entries SEPTA has received, transportation adoration is widespread, affecting people of all ages and on all transport modes.
There's a couple who found love as high school students taking the 125 Bus to jobs in King of Prussia. Nine years later, she wants to buy the rusty bench at 69th Street where he first put his arm around her.
Another pair met on the 15 Trolley going west. She was a tired single mother, not looking for love, when a handsome man approached her and said, "Hi. You know, I've seen you on this trolley before and every time you get off, you leave something - me." They've been together for more than 30 years and are parents and grandparents multiple times over.
Even Philadelphia's first family has a public transportation story: Lisa Nutter told SEPTA that husband Michael first asked for her phone number on a West Philly-bound train about 18 years ago. She managed to dodge him and got off the train without giving it to him. He later tracked her down where she worked. The rest is city history.
Whether they know it or not, SEPTA employees can take some credit for at least two marriages.
After knee surgery in 1988, Terri Davis needed to take a Paratransit bus to her job in Center City. She immediately noticed the big, handsome guy in the wheelchair, but said nothing.
A few days later, they were on the same bus again. She would have stepped off without a word, but the driver seemed to notice something in the air. He did most of the talking.
"Why don't you ask her for her number?" he asked the guy.
Joseph Davis shrugged. "She don't want my number."
Terri Davis jumped in, "How do you know, until you ask?"
They went from meeting to married in 10 months. The weird thing, they said, is they should never have been on the same bus. Paratransit generally picks people up by neighborhood. Terri lived in West Oak Lane. Joe was from North Philadelphia. After that second meeting, they never rode the same bus again.
Good thing he had her phone number.
"There's no one else I'd rather be with and no place I'd rather be," said Terri Davis, 54. "He's my best friend."
Added her husband, also 54, "There's no question in my mind. I'm here to stay."
A comedic conductor played a role in bringing together Charlie Baker, 56, and Hillary Hickmott Baker, 49, who live in Glenside. She had noticed him before on the R5 - but not in a good way. She called him "Scary Train Man" in her head because of his serious countenance and long brown hair. The day he sat next to her, she looked out the window and hoped he wasn't an ax murderer.
At Fort Washington station, the conductor warned passengers to watch their step as they got off because, "It's a real lulu." The pair looked at each other and laughed. "Scary Train Man" then became "Choo Choo Charlie."
Six months later, they were married. That was 13 years ago. The couple rarely take SEPTA now - "We don't need any more dates," Hillary Baker said - but they still call the R5 "the love train." They've now got single friends interested in riding.
Said Hillary, "Someone told me they were going to cancel their Match.com membership and buy a SEPTA pass."