5:40 am train.
Full. How can this be possible?
I stand in the vestibule, irritated, and then remember that the 5:40 am train is a Peak train, and further remember that I’m paying a Peak Fare rate to Stand. Irritated.
I set my bag down on the muddy floor, irritated, and wait, hoping for someone to get off at the one and only stop on the express train to Grand Central.
I see a commuter to my right zipping up his backpack. I grab my briefcase, block the aisle (and the commuter who is waiting on the other side of the vestibule) and grab the open seat. Commuter code: You snooze, you lose. Smiling. I’ve become a New Yorker.
I pull down the bench, a handicapped seat which flips up. There’s an awkward shifting of knees and legs to avoid all contact. There will be no man-touching.
Two men across from me. Two men to my right. And me.
- Sleeping. Reading. Reading. Sleeping. Reading.
- iPhone. iPhone. iPhone. Not visible. iPhone.
- Earbuds. Earbuds. None. None. None.
- Sneakers. Loafers. Lace up. Sneakers. Lace up.
- Baseball cap. Balding. Full head of hair. Hoodie. Balding.
- Backpack. None. Backpack. Backpack. Briefcase.
- No watch. No watch. Wristwatch. Unknown. Smartwatch.
- T-shirt. Business casual. Suit. Jeans. Suit.
- Nails (grimy). Nail biter. Manicured. Unknown. Nail biter.
The train car is silent but for the rocking of the car on rails.
We pull into Grand Central and exit without an acknowledgement of the other.
4 head right. I head left.
I walk alone, down the tunnels, with the sound of my footfall on concrete and with Patricia Hampl (again).
“There may be no more solitary location in America than a New York subway—take a look at the faces of those commuters, their heads bent to their open books like monks at their breviaries, little glowing screens casting an otherworldly aura onto their intent faces. They are elsewhere. They are alone. Alone with words as much as any writer at a notebook or screen.”
Notes:
- Post inspiration: Patricia Hampl, The Art of the Wasted Day
- Photo: Downtown train, Luc Kordas (via thisisn’thappiness)
- Related Posts: Commuting Series
