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Mass(es) Transit
Hop on any subway in the morning hours of your average workday and you might think that you were on the business end of rail car in Germany, circa 1940. Apparently everyone found shit in their cereal this morning. I guess when the masses and the miserable have to be moved, there's no better place to do it than deep beneath the surface of daily life. You pray that the music in everyone's headphones doesn't stop because by the looks in their eyes, their music is the only thing keeping them from massacring people. All in all, no one gives a fuck about you or your problems.
- If someone isn't wearing headphones, they most certainly will have their eyes closed. If people don't have to hear or see you, that apparently helps them alleviate the nightmare of being on the subway in the first place. All this would be acceptable if we weren't packed in this thing like a sleeping bag with everyone's exhalations feeling like I had a carbon dioxide fan blowing directly on my face. The assortment of racket blaring out of headphones all at once sounds like there was a foghorn attached to my head and I was trying to unhinge the eardrums from my skull. It's amazing, really. A little snippet of the mishmash of noise you hear all at once, "His pretty little 4 wheel drive - from a land down under - you make me wanna - Gimmie gimmie gimmie more, gimmie more - so I can superman that HO! - cause it's a beautiful day! - nnss nnss nnss" ("nnss" is of course the phonetic techno beat)
- Make sure your arm doesn't brush up on a woman attired in fur and sunglasses. Pissed off that she's crammed into a subway car with a myriad of peasants in the first place, she acts like the only reason she is on the subway is because she woke up gagged and bound on the train and the last thing she remembers was a faint smell of chloroform in the air and some vague memory of how her driver had not wanted to drive the Maybach through town during the middle of an urban war. Her eyes definitely scream, "MARCO!" and we are all supposed to oblige even as the train accelerates, decelerates and turns without confirming with us first. Ma'am, you found the subway, it didn't find you. Chill the fuck out.
- Even if this is my stop and I've made every body movement possible to let the people behind me know that I intend on departing the train at the next stop, they still try and push through me as if I'm not. I'm doing that thing where as the train slows to a stop, I extend the arm that's holding the pole, kind of like a stripper would do right as she's about to spin around the thing. I thought this was the universal sign that I'm getting off the subway and yet, the old woman digging the tip of her umbrella into my back tells me otherwise.
- That newspaper being read is like an accidentally exposed tit to the rest of the train, everyone steals a glance. "Cops….find….34…..Dead….." You find yourself tilting your head as you try to read print upside down. You get angry at newspapers across the train whose top corner sags just enough so you can't read the article title. You despise hand placement that covers words you need to see. You get mad at the guy holding the paper for flipping through too fast and not being as interested in the same articles as you. You call him classless under your breath. You find yourself reading about the socio-economic trends in Estonia because that is the only commentary you can get a clear look at.
If you are the owner of a newspaper and you know someone is stealing a peek, you fold to a new page immediately, but pretend that you didn't know that they were reading your newspaper. No one likes anyone getting a free ride off of them but no one wants to be THAT big of a dick. It's the same reason you don't share your best smut videos with any of your friends. I didn't even know you guys liked porn, my bad!
- That guy isn't sleeping, he's actually dead. No one sleeps on the floor of a subway, folks. Stop stepping over the guy like he was a rotting log. He's wearing the same thing as yesterday because his body has lost cellular animation, not because he's going for the grunge look.
- That guy isn't crumping and bringing the LA streets to NYC, he's actually having a seizure. 65-year-old white men don't crump. Stop giving him tips. Call 911.
Free newspaper subscription!
- 'Yo I can't believe that fool keeps telling people that some girl got raped. He crazy!' Aggressive. The statement, belted out by one 14-year old to his friend on a packed and dead silent train, forced most of us to feel uncomfortable and visibly fidget. Anyone that speaks above an inaudible whisper on the subway must be daring. And anyone who belts out the word "rape" on a subway is downright hostile. We looked more awkward as we tried to not stare at them. These are the type of kids who, if they caught your eye, would say to you, "What are you staring at you little bitch?" forcing you to decide whether or not you want to get in a verbal spat with a 14-year-old kid on your way to work on one hand, but knowing that if you don't respond, everyone else on that train will think, "Damn. I guess he IS a little bitch."
- There's a good chance that you will be crammed in this train for too many minutes with the same person's face in your line of sight. So you silently judge every single thing about them. "Gosh that woman really is unattractive! I wonder what her parents looked like to make her? We need to incorporate the "survival of the fittest" thing back into the human race because some people have been bypassing some rules. The bags under her eyes look like the yolk of a boiled egg. Her skin looks like a sun-dried tomato. Who did her eyebrows? They're awful. SHE'S awful. Did she get ready this morning in the middle of a blackout? I'm so glad I'm not her. She has a funny chin too. And her hair! It looks like frayed rope." It's all good though, people are judging your dumbass too.
- But be careful with the staring because you don't want to be THAT guy. You know the guy. The guy that is looking at you so you look away to give him the decency to stop looking at you and then you have this conversation in your head:
"I caught you buddy so now when I look back, I hope you're not still sta-. Jesus. He hasn't even blinked an eye. Why is he staring at me? I'm gonna look away one more time and pretend like I'm looking at the subway map, maybe squint a little as I 'read' it and when I look back, I'm sure he'll be loo-Good god! This guy is creeping me out. I think he wants to kill me."
Ok, there is a good chance that this is Mr. "I look like I might blow up this train" Guy. In every subway car, there is a silent agreement amongst passengers of who the person is that is most likely to pull some terroristic shenanigans. Mr. "I look like I might blow up this train" is clearly not traveling to any type of a professional workplace in that attire and with that 5 o'clock shadow. The closer his neck hair is to connecting with his facial hair is directly proportional to people's ruthless unfair prejudgm- By the way, he's still staring at you. Get off at the next stop and take the local train.
The Train from the 'Burbs
- Arriving to NYC from the suburbs on a train is a whole different ballgame entirely. Unlike the subways, which come and go more or less randomly, these trains arrive at your suburbia stop at a set time everyday. So you see the same fools every morning standing at the "Doors Open Here" spot on the platform. You smile and take your place right next to them and think to yourself, "I got here after you and I'm getting on this train before you assholes."
- I elbow my way onto the train and to my surprise, the train is as filled as it was the day before and the day before that. But for some reason, there is some entitlement about sitting FIRST. Because once sitting, you are subsequently better than anyone standing. It's just how it works. Everyone sitting looks at everyone who is looking for a seat and thinks, "Suckers." But it's a bit much when I'm looking for a spot and then I have the guy who is sitting in the aisle seat in a row of three with no one in his row who exhales and rolls his eyes when I ask him if I can slide in. Is he fucking serious? What it this, the Laidlaw bus? What am I, Forrest Gump? Don't take it out on me just because you have a longer commute than I do, pal.
Look at me! I'm going to work really fast!
- Then you have the people who think it's less of a nuisance to sit in the 4th seat in a remarkably tight seating arrangement that is 2 seats facing 2 seats with 3 of the seats already being filled. But up approaches a woman; let's call her of a gargantuan size. We all keep reading like we don't see her just HOPING that she will keep moving but alas, she points at the open seat in the corner. Fuck. Imagine 3 baseballs lying peacefully on a trampoline. The slightest movement might cause them to roll into each other. Well now place a fucking bowling ball on the trampoline and watch what happens. As she sits down with a thunder, her knee jams into mine causing my patella to dislodge from its prescribed anatomic position. Now all four of our bodies are touching and since we had to adjust our bodies so she could move in, the bowling ball now has first reigns on her position making the rest of us uncomfortable as hell. I am now in a full sweat with rage.
- Sweating, cramped and fluid buildup in my knee, I still have room for some hate and it's left for the people who get up 10 minutes before the train reaches NYC. You see, if someone gets up, then the rest of the lemmings get up and cause a ruckus with their jackets and bags making me sweat even more. I memorize the face of the person who started the exodus to the door on the still-moving train and I seek them out, relishing it when I pass them on the way to the subway. It feels SO good, too good! I almost want to shove them and be like, "That's right douchebag! You got up on the train to get off before everyone else and now I'm passing you! Woo!" Well I think that and realize that I need to join a rec league to handle the competitive issues I have.
New Yorker's aren't rude, it's just the bell curve. With over 8 million people in the same spot doing the same thing as you, there is just a greater chance that you are going to run into people that completely piss you off.
Not one mild grin at any point. I didn't hate this, it wasn't poorly written, but it lacked any attempt at humor whatsoever. Hey, bitch and whine to your GF, not "TTP"
This really just made me want to hit somebody... and glad that I don't live in NYC - fun for the occasional weekend but one of the last 5 places on the planet I'd ever want to live.
Posts: 1068 Rank: 15 Joined:
12/28/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 3/11/2008 1:03:39 PM
OK. This was well-written and I'm guessing it will not be too well-received because it is long in content and short on one-liners. I liked it for the same reason I like JDL's articles: the devil is in the details.
I used to take the train to work and it was a similar experience: lots of games about where to sit...strategically, etc. Lots of characters too.
A quote: "The closer his neck hair is to connecting with his facial hair is directly proportional to people's ruthless unfair prejudgm.."
That's what I call a reverse beard or, "draeb", for short.
Posts: 377 Rank: 30 Joined:
8/29/2007
Location:
Boston, MA
Posted: 3/11/2008 1:18:06 PM
the mom with the enormous stroller. First of all - you are taking up room enough for at least twelve commuters and second - don't subject your newborn to the filth of the subway. Opt for a cab and breathe in the filthy air outside instead.
Also, the three tall black guys dressed in (very) baggy clothing. These folks seem to get all the space they need. They will be the ones sitting down in two seats each, with their legs sprawled out and no one will say a word because they will probably kill you.
The fella who decided to jump in front of the tracks on your clock, when you're on the 4 train on 86th street and have to walk across central park to the west side. Next time, suicide alone in your room. Thanks.
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