But with that, a sleek stainless-steel train glided into the station - part of a 94-car, $178 million acquisition three years ago - to whisk Fakturovich and other afternoon riders toward a series of refurbished stations: State, Aquarium, Maverick, Airport.
It was an illustration of the stark contrasts in a subway system that traces its origins to the late 19th century and that bears the scars of age and 20-hour-a-day use.
State, the most recently renovated of the bunch, was the site of a ribbon-cutting a few weeks ago for the near-completion of a $68 million station facelift. That means one less shabby station. But there are still plenty of eyesores underground, as the T proceeds incrementally to refurbish tired stations.
“Government Center is probably the biggest dog, if you will,’’ said Richard A. Davey, general manager of the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority. “Certainly, there are a few.’’
The T has spent hundreds of millions of dollars in recent years on station upgrades, centered on making the system more accessible to riders with disabilities - improvements spurred by a federal lawsuit. On the familiar spider map, 27 of the 30 busiest subway stations now carry the blue-and-white icon for wheelchair access.
There is no such map for station aesthetics, more open to interpretation than accessibility, and traversing the spectrum from dumpy to dazzling. One rider’s blighted bunker is another’s historic marvel.
But where some may see art in benches etched with graffiti or find haunted charm in the spare catacombs of the Green Line, sometimes decay is just decay: puddles of rust-brown water on the Haymarket platforms; gnarled mineral deposits hanging like stalactites over the Tufts Medical Center track pit; a bandaged duct at Park Street weeping like an infected wound.
