Subway Love #5

They must have been in their mid 80's, a well dressed pair in that dignified Upper East Side way. He held her hand as they got on the train. A young man got up, offering his seat, and the husband led the wife over and settled her in. They never spoke, the whole way from 77th to Grand Central, where he took her hand again and helped her out of her seat, and then they were off, holding hands.

Subway Love #4

Standing outside the subway entrance on 86th St, in the early morning hours, a young couple, probably early 20's. They were both dressed for the office in that young career sort of way. For some reason I noticed that he had large feet, planted firmly on either side of her tiny shoes. They where holding each other, kissing passionately, eyes closed in ignorance of the streaming early morning foot traffic around them. As I passed them, he was pressing his lips to her forehead, her face relaxed in happiness.

Disfunctional subway

Strange night on the trip home tonight. Coming into the 23rd St subway, a muttering man was crawling under the turnstile, in full sight of the station attendant. I went through after him, watching him wander up and down the platform, his voice rising and falling against the subway walls. I went back out the turnstile, and went to ask the attendant if she would call someone to help him, maybe see if he needed medical attention. I have this irrational paranoid tingle about people throwing themselves off the platform too. The attendant, sitting under the "if you see something, say something sign" refused to help, saying there was nothing she could do. Of course there was, she just chose not to. As I went back to the turnstill, there was a girl there, maybe 19, 20, standing at the entrance, softly asking for help as people passed. Part of me wanted to stop and ask her what she needed. Part of me, that empathetic-less part, pushed me back through the turnstile. A few minutes later I saw her on the platform, angry, spitting at the train as it passed, reaching her fingers out to the rushing cars. And the cold part of me turned away.

What was that all about?

Two women fighting like screetching cats on the subway tonight. I went out of my pattern, walking north to Grand Central, then picking up dinner at the market there, then catching the express uptown. As I got on, two women were by the door on the lead end of the train, screaming at the top of their lungs. I couldn't figure out what the problem was, though it seemed like one of the women wanted the other to give up her seat and it escalated. One, a thin, thin Indian woman, ripped off her jacket, throwing it on the ground as though she were about to start a prize fight. The other, a short black woman with tight braids, sitting the whole time, screaming loudly. I moved to the other end of the train, trying to stay out of the fray. Other passengers looked in in glee, a couple of guys egging them on. The conductor came out of his cubby, adding to the chaos and noise, just screaming, not really doing anything useful. And all the while, I sat at the other end of the train. And did nothing.