Sitting on my coffee table in my living room is a book from the U.K. by two designs experts. The book is called Signs: Lettering in the Environment, and it is, as you might guess, all about what are known as wayfinding signs.

These signs are a ubiquitous part of everyday life in New York City. We have one-way signs, alternate-side-of-the-street parking signs, street signs, landmark signs, directional signs and, of course, an entire network of signs courtesy of the MTA. The underground signs tell us which way our train is going, what trains we can expect to arrive on which tracks at what time and whether or not the staircase on the left or right will put us on the proper corner.

In Phil Baines and Catherine Dixon’s book, the two write about the theory behind wayfinding signs. These should be welcoming and clear, uniform and informative. As the MTA learned in the 1950s and 1960s, it isn’t always easy to design signs that fit those specifics, and although Massimo Vignelli’s Helvetica signs succeed in certain aspects, in many ways, they live those unfamiliar with subway shorthand confused about the way.

Take, for instance, the sign up above. That sign — a direction with some letters missing — would make no sense to many people, and yet, it marks stations with mid-platf (sic) entrances throughout the system. Apparently, the MTA, short on cash, couldn’t afford the “-form.”

These signs all stem from a 1970 manual by Vignelli and his associates called the New York City Transit Authority Graphics Standards Manual. The user Triborough has a full set of photos from the manual, and the images provide a tantalizing glimpse into the world of MTA signage. We can see the theory behind directional signs, the rational behind the placement of signs in complex station mazes and the modular font system designed to make the signs very readable.

But does it work? In general, the MTA’s signage makes sense. Riders know where they are and can figure out, to a reasonable degree, where the trains are going. But sometimes, signs such as the one above creep up. The B train stops at W 4th St., except when it doesn’t, and then you can take the D and transfer to the Q at De Kalb Ave. Usually, the D train runs express and skips DeKalb, except during late nights when it runs local and stops at DeKalb. Good luck, too, determining when that “late night” period is or figuring out what to do for those 90 minutes after the B stops running and before the D makes its stop at De Kalb. Even the MTA’s website is helpless on that front. In the end, the signs make perfect sense to those who use the B and the D and the Q on a regular basis and no sense to those who have never had to interpret Vignelli Subway-ese.

For the next few weeks, Slate is tackling this subject of signs. Julia Turner offered up a primer on signs to introduce the series and yesterday explored how London, a city decidedly not on a grid, is trying to help people get around. (Fun London fact: It’s often faster to walk than it is to take the Tube, but few out-of-towners and even some native Londoners know that because the street map is just that confusing.)

The New York-centric essay in her series involved Turner’s effort at finding her way around Penn Station. Why, she asked, are the signs so confusing? Turner charts her effort, in photos, to get from Lower Manhattan to Amtrak’s half of Penn Station and finds the connection from New York City Transit to Amtrak very complicated. The reason for the confusion, she says, is because three different agencies — the MTA, New Jersey Transit and Amtrak — share the space and have never coordinated on signage. Such are the travails of transit bureaucracy.

We tend to take signs for granted until we don’t know where we’re going. The next time I ride, I’m going to take a look at that plat and see if I can find some gems amidst the MTA signage. Sometimes, you never know on which track that train will arrive even with the signs.

As the city’s newspapers cover the latest in MTA political theater, a few have taken the bold step of interviewing New Yorkers to get their views on transit issues. Instead of grandstanding politicians and crusading advocates, Metro commissioned a poll to find out what 280 New Yorkers felt about service hikes, fare cuts and the state of the transit system. The results are presented in full in this infographic, but I wanted to break it down a bit.

For the poll, Metro led with my favorite question: Fare hikes vs. service cuts. A majority of those polled preferred a 7.5 percent fare hike to service cuts while 44 percent said the fares are already too high. Those people would prefer less service for their too high fares, an odd compromise indeed. Considering that the fares are lower today than they were 15 years ago, New Yorkers either hate paying or don’t understand how much they pay for a subway ride.

The next question is the one with the most comforting result. Only 13 percent of respondents believe the MTA should be paying for student transit, and 87 percent of New Yorkers think the city, state or parents should foot the bill. Someone should tell that to our politicians who won’t pay for student travel and continue to slam the MTA for threatening subsidies it should be expected to cover.

Here’s where things start getting interested, and I’d love to see how these questions further break down. Even though 44 percent of respondents were willing to take service cuts over fare hikes, the biggest complaint people have about the system are the crowds. It will only get worse as service is decreased. The 21 percent who say cleanliness is a problem should think about starting a movement to convince others to use the proper garbage bins, and 24-hour service remains a hallmark of the MTA. That only eight percent appreciate how cheap the subways strikes me as too few, but perhaps that total would rise if people could pick a second choice.

After presenting the info on people’s views of the system overall, the poll switches gears to discuss straphangers’ opinions on those who work in the subway. The TWU does not currently have public sentiment on its side in its battle to convince New Yorkers that its guaranteed raises are good for the city and its transit system. Still, with the law on their side instead, the TWU doesn’t need much public sympathy.

I’m intrigued to see people’s views on station agents. Clearly, as I’ve mentioned before, they serve a psychological purpose even if they can’t actually observe platform before and aren’t legally required to stop crimes in progress or assist victims. Their mere presence at station entrances is enough to convince New Yorkers that they are safe. The truth is that in a deserted station, passengers can be waiting the equivalent of two city blocks away from station agents and on another level of the station. The agents are only as useful as they can be as a deterrent factor and as a calming influence on nervous riders. Considering that the city has lost numerous station agents since 2008 and crime has not risen in the subways, it remains to be seen if those 60 percent of riders who predict a decrease in safety will see their fears come true.

What the station agents are not, however, is all that useful. Less than a quarter of all riders think the station agents are instrumental in keeping the system most. Most want these employees to both friendlier and more knowledgeable. That too is an unsurprising finding. We want station agents as a safety blanket, but when we need something out of them, they become less helpful.

So as the MTA conducts its final New York City-based hearings tonight, these views are something to consider. The authority should begin to consider a fare hike as an alternate solution for its budget crisis, but opinions are decidedly mixed on most MTA issues.