It was a dark and stormy night; that would be the more entertaining and clichéd way to start this story, but I intend to be as accurate as my recollection will allow. In actuality, it was a Thursday in February, and I was working the second shift at my job. Instead of being crammed into the subway with the rest of the rush hour straphangers, on this rather pleasant, unseasonably mild February afternoon I headed into work.
“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” I scouted out a good seat. There were plenty to choose from. Selecting a seat involves a combination of weighing comfort, your personal space and who your commute neighbors will be. As I looked at everyone, I noticed people don’t make eye contact on the subway. I always do. I stare at people on purpose. And it lets people know I’m more likely to be able to identify them later if need be.
I took a seat by the door. A person’s width away, to my left, sat a middle-aged black woman. I guess she was working 2nd shift also. She had on sneakers with hose and a skirt. Her primary concern was obviously comfort over style as well as making sure she knew what kind of bag I was carrying, what earrings I was wearing, how my hair was styled, and whether or not I cleaned my ears that morning. I looked over at her to let her know that I was aware she was watching me intently. She quickly looked away.
I turned my attention to the young Hispanic woman seated across from me. She was playing a video game on her cell phone and that annoying “ping” rang throughout the train car. The woman next to my left was studying me again. Maybe I reminded her of an estranged daughter or niece. I tend to fabricate a story that seems to match their situation at the moment I meet them.
For instance, according to my calculations, the woman across from me obviously sought attention drawn to her new cell phone. The other young woman sitting in the two-seater in the corner looked at me then the video game player. I watched the second woman watch the first then take out her cell phone and compare. I wasn’t prepared to deal with dueling “pings.” Luckily, I didn’t have to, as the second woman put her cell phone away. An expression of inadequacy came over her face. Personally, I found her cell phone to be quite adequate.
On the other end of the bench occupied by the video game player, sat a man who couldn’t keep his eyes open. I couldn’t tell if he was inebriated, intoxicated or just incredibly tired. His head slowly drooped, his mouth gradually gaped open. He would wake up periodically with the startled look on his face; the look of, “I know I’m being watched.” It was I; every time he opened his eyes, mine were locked on him. He looked clean, but his outfit didn’t match. He wore a blue and orange Knicks jacket with stone washed jeans and a red t-shirt. I would tell you what sort of shoes he wore, but before my gaze reached his feet he woke up again and I felt obligated to keep the date our eyes had. I made him uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat. He looked at the woman to my left, the young Hispanic woman sitting across from me, at the intellectual thug sitting across from him, and then drifted off to sleep.
The intellectual thug that sat by the middle set of doors was reading “Jungian Psychotherapy and Contemporary Infant Research.” He had on a Pelle Pelle black-on-black quilted leather jacket, grey hoody, baggy jeans and Timberland boots. His huge North Face backpack was on the floor in front of him.
It wasn’t until I looked past him that I noticed the homeless man at the other end of the car. He was spread out in the four-seater in the corner. How had I not noticed him when I first boarded the train? Usually when I spot one-without-a-home before I board the train, I ride in a different car. I try to avoid being decked in the face with the odor that sometimes permeates an entire train car when they’re traveling in one. This guy offended no one. I wonder if anyone even noticed him. He was motionless. The rocking of the train could soothe anyone to sleep (at least I think he was sleeping). And he was far enough away from the annoying “ping” of the cell phone video game player that he’d probably sleep till the train got to the end of the line.
The train was rocking along then came to a screeching halt. No one blinked. That wasn’t an unusual occurrence at all. I watched the other passengers and I could feel the older woman to my left watching me, again.
“We’re being delayed due to train traffic ahead of us, please be patient.”
“Ping.”
I was staring daggers into the woman across from me. She didn’t look up from her cell phone display once.
“Ping. Ping.”
I took a deep breath. The sleeping guy woke up again.
“Ping.”
The intellectual thug leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and turned the page in his book.
“Ping.”
The other young woman in the two-seater looked at the game player then directed her gaze towards me. I looked at the woman across from me then back at the other young woman. We were both thinking the same thing. The question was, which one of us was going to snatch that blasted cell phone and chuck it onto the tracks?
The air shut off on the train and then the subtle vibration from the engine ceased. Silence. It’s amazing how much noise is on a train even when it’s not moving.
The computerized “voice” came on over the loudspeaker. The intellectual thug removed his trademark white iPod earphones so he could hear the announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re being held momentarily by the train’s dispatcher. Please be patient.” I recited the announcement word for word along with the “voice” in my head.
“Ping.”
I noticed the intellectual thug was watching the young woman play her video game.
“Ping.”
So was the older woman sitting to my left.
“Ping. Ping.”
For the first time, the other passengers made eye contact with one another. We all shook our heads and rolled our eyes. Subway riders united in annoyance.
Then it stopped. She closed her cell phone and put it in her pocket. That’s when I realized how tight my jaw had been clenched and that I was grinding my teeth. The “ping” stopped and all my tension melted away.
“Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” the older woman to my left offered me a small pamphlet. My jaw tightened up again. I kindly refused.
“Jesus loves you, my child.” I nodded and gave her a smile just left of sincere. I looked straight ahead hoping that would end the conversation.
“Jesus died for our sins.” The older woman now spoke to me and the Hispanic woman across from me. Bet she wished she was still playing that video game.
The older woman reached into her purse and took out another pamphlet. She offered it to the Hispanic woman. She accepted it.
“God bless you.”
She walked down the car to the sleeping guy.
“Jesus loves you.”
No response.
She put one of her pamphlets on the seat next to him. She offered one to the intellectual thug. He just shook his head “no.”
The conductor came on over the loud speaker to make an announcement. “We have a signal against us. As soon as it clears, we shall proceed.”
The intellectual thug now had an exasperated look on his face. He was either late to or coming from class at Long Island University, St. Francis, Poly Tech, BMCC, any number of schools.
There was a rumbling coming from the far end of the car. The older woman continued her religious rant and the homeless guy started to stir. He was lacking the soothing rocking that kept him asleep. The not-quite-drunk-not-quite-high-guy was now awake.
“Who took my paper?” the homeless guy demanded. Not sure who he was talking to. “You took it? You took it!” He stood up. He looked under his seat and there were loose pages from that morning’s AM New York strewn about. He picked them up and organized them. He continued to look under his seat for newspaper. He had already collected all the newspaper there were.
“You have them! Idiot! Give it back!”
Who was he talking to? It didn’t seem like he was even aware of our presence. But we were all wary of his. This is the other reason I try not to ride in the same car as homeless people. You never know which one is going to be a little off kilter. The unpredictability freaks me out. It’s a funny thing, but we humans will get closer to a wild animal quicker than we would with another human being. He started walking down the car towards us.
“You motherfucker! You took it!”
I wanted to keep my eye on him but not look directly at him. I didn’t want to set him off. He continued to stomp his way through the car. He stopped at stared at the second set of doors.
“Give it back!” He was swinging at an invisible opponent, real knockout blows. He stood next to the intellectual thug. He had his earphones in and was reading his book, but his eyes darted sidelong to keep an eye on our new entertainment.
Meanwhile, the religious older woman took her seat to my left and proceeded to explain that’s what happens to the demented and the god-less. She offered me a pamphlet again. I was mildly entertained and a little fearful of the homeless guy, but not scared enough to concede to her. I declined the pamphlet, again. She didn’t offer any blessings this time.
The homeless guy stumbled through the car again. He clutched the newspapers like they were gold. Had the train been rumbling thirty blocks between express stops that would explain his unbalanced gait. We all watched him stagger by us. He stopped at the interior car doors. He struggled to open them. He continued to clutch his newspapers and that prevented him from using all his strength to open the door.
The young woman sitting in the two-seater appeared very uncomfortable. He cussed at the door, kicked it a few times, dropped his newspapers, struggled to pick them up again, opened the door and staggered out the car. He stood between the cars for a while. I didn’t have a clue what he was up to. I watched along with the young woman in the two-seater.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re being held momentarily by the train’s dispatcher. Please be patient.” The computerized voice reassured us. I took a breath and agreed to be patient.
Then the air kicked back on and the train jerked to a start again. The intellectual thug leaned back in his seat and resumed reading. The really exhausted guy closed his eyes again to sleep off what was ailing him. The young Hispanic woman read the ads above my head. The older woman to my left carried on her inspection of me. I looked at the electronic display; the time was 11:37am. We had only sat there for five minutes.
LisaG, 3 months ago
Fantastic,
I am an observer also; I enjoyed every line of this piece of writing. Wonderfully written…you’ve captured each person on the train, in such a descriptive way, I can visualise them all.
WOW….