Sesame Street on the Subway, Seventies Style

I love vintage Sesame Street. And I especially love this video, which is recognizably the New York City subway system, except it's the 1970s and there are dancing muppets. I will admit to having no first hand knowledge of the 1970s subway here in NYC - I wasn't born yet - but my understanding is that the city was a bit scarier and darker than it is today. And that darkness is reflected just a bit in this video ...

The muppets do things muppets are supposed to do - they sing and dance and smile - but there is also a tension in the air here that one doesn't really expect of Sesame Street. Elmo would be out of place here. Instead, we have the random beatnik muppet, and the old lady who breathlessly insists that "you could lose your purse or you might lose something worse on the subway." There is the suggestion that it's hot, and claustrophobic, and the dancing is more a reflection of the chaos contained within those subway cars than a true celebration. And poor Kermit, who should have taken the local instead of the express! How many of us have done that at one time or another? The character I really sympathize with here, though, is Bert. Poor Bert doesn't want to take part in the dancing. He just wants to avoid getting hit. He doesn't like all these random people touching him, and he's doing his best to avoid it. Bert represents order and sanity in the midst of the madness and chaos. At the end of the video, it's not clear if he's bewildered or relieved or both. I sympathize here because when the break dancers start up on the D train, I'm usually wondering if there is some place I can duck and hide to avoid getting kicked. There are other Sesame Street takes on the subway, but I think this one is the most interesting and surreal. And I do get a kick out of it in spite of picking up some dark undertones. If I have to be subject to subway entertainment of the singing and dancing variety, I'd prefer it to come from Kermit and friends than from anyone else!

*FYI - I had meant to do a post about subway preachers a few days ago, following a particularly annoying experience - but then my internet broke, and the moment seemed to have passed. I'm sure it will come again, though. In the meantime, Bert, Kermit, and friends are a good substitute!

Long Distance Signal Failures: The Quirks of Public Transportation in this Great Nation of Ours

Anyone who has been reading this blog might wonder at its recent silence. Well, that is because this is a blog about New York City's public transportation, and the many attendant insanities, and I have been out of NYC. I've been traveling westward, to my hometown of Pittsburgh, and even further west, to my ten year college reunion in South Bend, Indiana. But as it turns out, trains, buses, taxis, and planes are crazy everywhere, and I come with a report of some of the highlights, comparisons, and other oddities of my trip.

Memorial Day Megabus

My first adventure was on the Megabus, heading from NYC to Pittsburgh on May 28. Now, for those who may not know (you innocent souls!), the Megabus actually started in the UK in 2003, and has rapidly expanded westward, landing in the USA in 2006. They advertise fares for as low as one dollar (though I've never gotten one), complimentary wifi, power outlets at every pair of seats, and clean, safe, express, double-decker busses. In theory, the Megabus is an amazing deal, and it actually is a better experience than Greyhound. The bus from New York to Pittsburgh has only one stop in between - at State College, PA, home of Penn State University. When I first started taking the Megabus about two years ago, most of the clientele consisted of students. It has since gotten more publicity, I guess, because now those sketchy people who used to take Greyhound have found out about it, and apparently a lot of them have a pressing need to go to Pittsburgh on weekdays in June. Well, normally I try to take the earliest bus of the day - it's less likely to hit traffic and is occasionally less crowded. It leaves around 6:30 AM. However, I was in a fantastic wedding the night before I was leaving this time, and when I booked I knew I wouldn't be up for standing around waiting for a bus at 6 AM. So I booked the 12:50 bus. On Memorial Day. It's important to know at this point that Megabus has no specific bus station - the e-mail confirmation has instructions to go to 41st and 10th, and basically get in line. So that's what I did. There are multiple lines for the various destinations, and though I was over an hour early, the Pittsburgh line was still substantial. And I had forgotten to wear sunscreen. So by the time I boarded, I had sunburn, and my phone was almost dead (I love you, iPhone, but your battery life is tragically short). I was lucky to get a nice seat mate, though, a massage therapist named Melinda, who was returning home to Pittsburgh. That's the thing with public transportation - sometimes it's possible to meet really nice people, and that can make for a much more pleasant experience. We chatted a bit, but she was chill enough to stop chatting when I wanted to try to read or sleep. Reading is tough for me on buses because I get motion sickness, but it's not as bad with my Kindle, so I was willing to try. I had really counted on using my phone to chat and play games, though, which did not happen - sadly, the power outlets were all dead, and the driver wasn't able to fix them (to be honest, I'm not convinced he tried - he was extremely apathetic and didn't even list the safety rules the drivers normally list). Also, the Megabus on this route always stops at the same rest stop in eastern Pennsylvania - it's a pretty sad little place, but it's clean, and has a Subway sandwich shop in it, so at least it's possible to get something healthy (there is also a convenience store that sells non-descript, very sketchy looking hotdogs and sausages). So the bus got in rather late, and my phone had less than 10% battery life remaining, but I'd survived another trip on the Megabus, and I was back in Pittsburgh, which is a pretty good place to be (honestly!). 

The Megabus at a rest stop in Pennsylvania

The Midnight Train 

After two days respite in the 'burgh, it was time to leave for South Bend, Indiana, home of Saint Mary's College, the greatest school in the world, and another school that a few people know for its football team. Well, there is no Megabus to South Bend. And there is no good way to fly there. I could probably fly to Europe for what I'd pay to fly into the South Bend Airport. Flying into Chicago and then taking the train or bus there is also an option, but it was not a cheap one, either. Renting a car might have been an option, but there is a reason I am so experienced at taking public transportation - I haven't driven in about a decade (I probably shouldn't have a driver's license, but I do - I plan to take lessons again fairly soon). So - Amtrak it was. The train from Pittsburgh to South Bend is actually the train from D.C. to Chicago, and it stops in Pittsburgh in time for an 11:59 departure. I've taken Amtrak plenty during the day, but only once or twice before at night, and that was a long time ago. There weren't tons of people going on that train, but there were a few. Since the train didn't seem like it would be crowded, I had high hopes of not getting a seat partner. Those hopes, my friends, were quickly dashed. 'Twas a fleeting dream, but a sweet one. As soon as I boarded the train, the conductor told me where to sit, which is a new experience for me on Amtrak. I guess I see why - people would be getting off and on throughout the night, and this probably avoided some confusion - but it threw me a little. Especially as she told a guy who was traveling alone to take the next seat. Since it's a night train, the seats recline a lot, so I basically would have to spend the night lying next to this strange guy. I didn't feel entirely comfortable with it, though it helped that he was not excited about it, either. And it ended up being fine - I texted on my phone and read my book and he played with his laptop, and we ignored each other. I managed to get a little sleep, though it wasn't restful - the train would stop and start, slow down and speed up, and trains out west often have to yield to passing freight trains. In the morning, though, I felt surprisingly good - perhaps it was the excitement of my impending reunion. It was surprisingly nice to wake up and see a rainy Indiana from the train window. 

Indiana from the train window, around 7 AM last Thursday

When I got off the train in South Bend, I'm not sure what I expected. In New York, and even in Pittsburgh, there are cabs hanging out at the stations to make the most of the opportunities for fares those places present. I guess I can see why there aren't any in South Bend - I suspect it's not a high traffic station at 7 AM most weekdays, and most people probably have rides waiting for them. On this day, there was a decent little crowd because of the reunions at Saint Mary's and that other school. Of this group of people, I was the only one with numbers for local cab companies, since a friend had been kind enough to text them to me the day before. I called and arranged for my cab, and was told it would be there in fifteen minutes. I then shared my phone numbers with the rest of the passengers, and went to use the rest room. When I came out five minutes later, two other people had phoned my cab company, and were told to just share the cab with me, even though we were going to different places! They were perfectly nice, but it was a little surprising! The cab driver was very friendly, too, and extremely accommodating. I usually don't discuss cabs on this blog, but my experience with NYC cabs has been a real mix, from the friendly to the eccentric to the downright vile. This guy just seemed normal, which was cool, and he drove me exactly where I asked to go without making a fuss or pretending he didn't know where it was (people who live in Queens know what I'm talking about) which I greatly appreciated. 

Sleepy on the South Shore to Chicago 

After an absolutely fantastic college reunion, my friend and I headed to Chicago via the South Shore Line. I had a flight back to Pittsburgh to catch at Midway airport that evening, but we would take the train and have a few hours to kill in Chicago (my friend lives there). The South Shore is a commuter train with South Bend and Chicago on either end of it. New Yorkers, think of New Jersey Transit or Metro North trains. They have pretty much the same layout inside, and serve a similar purpose. Except that the South Shore is Very Brown - it's like something from the 1970s in terms of interiors. And Very Slow. My friend started saying that she was not going to be able to stay awake as soon as we sat down. I began to make some kind of retort about her not thinking me very good company, but she anticipated me, and said no - that it had nothing to do with the company - that it was simply impossible to stay awake on the South Shore. And she was right! I don't know if it was the slowness or all the brown decor, but I just could not keep my eyes open. Finally I gave in to it and dozed. Until a thud against my back woke me up. The thud was repeated. I turned around, expecting to see a small child kicking the back of my seat. It happens, and a lot of times kids just don't know better until they're told not to do it. I didn't see a child, though - instead, I saw a grown man with his wife sitting next to him. I asked him, politely, to stop kicking my seat. I got a blank stare in return. I asked again, and he nodded. I said thank you and turned back around. Five minutes later I felt it again. My friend had woken up by this time, so we moved to the seats in front of us to get away from the kicking. I told him I was moving because he wouldn't stop kicking me. He shrugged. I was reminded that there are a lot of rude people outside of New York, too, but fortunately the kicking stopped once I moved. 

On the South Shore Train

Babysitting on Southwest 

My flight from Chicago to Pittsburgh actually went absurdly well. Since it was summer and late in the evening, I expected delays, but they were minor. On Southwest, there are no assigned seats - you board in the order you checked in, basically. There is an A group, a B group, and a C group, and there are numbers assigned within each group. A1 is the first to board, while C42 is a much less desirable boarding position. Once you're on the plane, you can choose any seat you want. I paid ten dollars extra for some sort of preferred boarding thing, which meant the airline checked me in automatically and I got a good boarding number - A32. I actually am really picky about where I sit on planes. When I was 19 and flying around Europe for the first time, I always sought a window seat. Flying was exciting and I wanted to see everything there was to see. Now, I just want to be off the damned plane as soon as possible, so I seek an aisle seat as close to the front as I can get. This time, thanks to my nice low boarding number, I got to sit in an aisle seat three rows back. The window seat was occupied by a 12 year old girl I'll call C. C was *very* chatty. She was flying by herself for the first time, and had been on the plane since Salt Lake City. Her grandparents were to meet her in Pittsburgh, but she'd basically been on her own since she'd boarded (though I guess a flight attendant looks out for kids traveling alone? I hope so). She was a little scared to fly at night, and said she was tired, but too nervous to sleep through take off. I told her as confidently as possible that everything would be just fine. She asked me tons and tons of questions, though - and before I knew it I felt responsible for this kid - mainly because no one else seemed to be. She asked me about the book I was reading, about where I was going, and what I did. When I told her my job, she looked skeptical and asked how old I was. When C told me I looked much too young to be 32, I decided this kid was OK. But really, she was a pretty great kid. She expressed concern that someone would come and sit in the middle seat, and she didn't want to sit next to a stranger (I very much understood that). She seemed to think I was all right, though, so I told her that if anyone did come, that I would take the middle seat. She seemed to find this more agreeable. No one came, though, so that was good. She told me lots about herself and her family, and seemed very excited to get away from her siblings for the summer and spend time with her grandma. She did go to sleep eventually, and when it came time to land, I figured I would make sure she got to baggage claim all right and was able to meet her grandmother. That wasn't necessary, though- amazingly, the grandparents were waiting at the gate - security must make exceptions for children traveling alone, and she looked very happy to see them. And I was very happy to be home myself. I would get to spend a few days in Pittsburgh before reboarding the Megabus and returning to NYC.

The Pittsburgh "T": A Model of Inefficiency 

Pittsburgh, my beloved home town, is not a city well known for its amazing public transportation. I can remember taking the bus downtown with my mom when I was little - it was pretty neat, I thought then. In the intervening years, the city has cut services and raised prices on buses. But it wasn't the buses I had to deal with this trip. My mom and I also used to go to the Three Rivers Arts Festival occasionally when I was younger, and since I happened to be home during the festival, we decided to check it out again. We drove downtown, but alas - there was no parking to be had. So we drove back across the river, and parked there. Mom suggested that we take the subway, also known as the "T." I've been on the subway in Pittsburgh exactly twice before - once on a trip with the Girl Scouts when I was much younger, and one other time with my mom. There is exactly one subway line in Pittsburgh. So you'd think it would be super easy to figure out, right? Wrong. It was possibly the most confusing and stressful experience I had all week! And I am a pro at the NYC subway, and I've ridden multi-line subways in many other cities with no problems whatsoever. First, buying a ticket was an ordeal. The train is still above ground where we were buying the ticket (at Station Square for anyone familiar with the 'burgh). The woman in the booth was not forthcoming with any information or help, and we watched a train go by while we were trying to figure it out. There is no way to pay with a credit card, and it is required to pay with exact change. What??!?! I could see if we were in Cleveland or something (not that I've been there, but it's one of our rival cities), but this is Pittsburgh! It's a modern place! Finally, we had our tickets, though, and a few minutes later the train came. Now let me just show you in pictures what I experienced ....

There is no little map above the seats - or anywhere else - to tell passengers where they are or where to get off. 

One must request a stop! Also, there is a ticket machine there, but no one used it, so we ignored it, too. 

I've seen the carpeted seats elsewhere, such as in DC. I'm not sure how I feel about them. 

The Gateway Center station is actually kind of pretty. 

Looking up at the ceiling from inside the Gateway Center station. 

Once we were finished looking at art, Mom and I were going to walk across the Smithfield Street Bridge back to the car, but she had bought a bowl, and it was kind of heavy, and also it was really hot - so we decided to take the train back, thinking we knew what we were doing this time, and we even got the exact change out ahead of time. But we were wrong, of course. There is absolutely nowhere to purchase a ticket in the station downtown. After wandering aimlessly searching for a ticket machine or booth for a bit, I finally asked someone, and was told that we would need to buy it once we got off the train at Station Square. So it turns out, we were supposed to purchase a transfer on our way in if we wanted to come back. The woman at the booth never told us. Luckily, her colleague just sold us the transfer then and there, but it's not like this was written down anywhere! 

And a bit of humor that only Pittsburghers might get ...

This statue, by an artist named J. Seward Johnson, Jr., is called "Taxi!" It's supposed to be a man hailing a cab in downtown Pittsburgh - a thing that is actually not possible to do. I'm told the city is going to start experimenting with having cabs that can be hailed on the street, but right now - it's just not done. You can call a cab, or go to a cab stand at a hotel or something I guess, but if you try to get one on the street, you'll be ignored. Trust me - I know from experience. Also - I hit my head on this statue after bending down to look at the artist's plaque, so I've nicknamed him "Public Enemy #1." 

Megabus: The Return 

Yes, this title sounds like a bad sequel. And that's precisely what this Megabus trip felt like. The stakes are always higher in a sequel, of course, and the threat always more exaggerated. This time, there were new and disturbing challenges, but if you've been reading this long, you might be up for hearing about them. One of the nice things about the Megabus stop in Pittsburgh is that it's in the tunnel for the Convention Center, which offers some protection from the elements. However, today, the New York people were told to get in line outside the tunnel, around a corner and along the building. Just across from us was a row of trash bins, and they wreaked in the summer heat. It was not pleasant. And then ... the bus was fine, actually - it was just really, really crowded. Almost worse than Memorial Day. And my power outlet didn't work again (though other ones did, so I was able to borrow one for a bit to recharge my phone). But by this time, maybe I was just cranky about being on yet another form of public transportation, and feeling kind of motion sick. So all in all - a rather disappointing sequel, but it could have been worse. 

Epilogue: Back on the MTA

When I finally got off the bus at 28th and 7th, there seemed to be a lot of traffic. The first cab I met refused to take me to Queens (Yes, I know this is illegal but I was too tired to fight with him). I decided I'd just take the good old MTA - and a lot about this trip made me appreciate our strange, chaotic, yet remarkably well organized subway system. I walked to the NR line on 28th Street, and an R train came almost immediately. I got on and found a seat, opened my Kindle, and before I knew it I was home. 

Is this a cult?

(see photo). I have been seeing signs advertising the School of Practical Philosophy since I first moved to NYC in 2003. They are always either in subway stations or in the trains themselves. I suppose it is a good way to reach a wide, disparate audience quite likely disillusioned and searching for meaning, and perhaps wondering how it came to be crammed next to a a particularly malodorous person at that particular point in time, or wondering what mistakes in life destined it to be sitting next to a drunk, vomiting teenager (this has happened to me). Still, as much as I question my life choices when suffocating in the N train at rush hour or waiting 45 minutes for a D train at 2 AM, I have never been tempted to phone up the School of Practical Philosophy. A glance at the website, www.philosophyworks.org, doesn't really reveal much more than their advertisement, though it has the same vaguely creepy graphics with sun shining through clouds in a blue sky. They seem to offer courses in philosophy and economics for a fee, of course. But the whole thing feels cultish to me somehow. I am, however, happy to be proven wrong if any former or current students of the school want to speak up for it. I am also happy to be proven right if anyone wants to confirm that it is in fact a cult out to recruit vulnerable subway patrons.

Signal Failures Abroad: The London Underground

I'm not writing this from London - I was last there for about three days almost two years ago, and looking through some old photos today, I found that I have tons of pictures from the London Underground. So, I thought it might be fun to share some of them here, and think about some of the pros and cons of each city's system. I welcome comments, corrections, etc.

I was very impressed by the subway system in London. I have to say - for anyone coming from NYC, it's very easy to figure out a lot of systems in other cities, and the famous London tube system was no exception. It seems that it almost goes out of its way to create a pleasant and easy experience. I loved especially those electronic signs that tell you when the next train is coming. The NYC MTA is very slowly getting around to implementing them, but it's taking years. We have them on the 4/5/6 line, though they're often not working, and now they're on the 1/2/3 as well, and the L (if I'm missing one let me know). I love those signs, because often they can let me know whether or not I should start reading my book, look for a bench on the platform, or just give up and take a cab. I also very rarely had trouble finding a seat on the London trains. I'm not saying this even should always happen, but invariably some nice man would get up and offer me his seat. That doesn't happen here. In fact, I've actually had men push me out of the way for a seat on the train. We're a city filled with George Costanzas here in NYC. I've also never had to struggle with a heavy suitcase up or down the stairs in a tube station. Someone *always* offers to help. People will occasionally help here, too, but it's not something to be counted on. In fact, I offered to help a woman struggling with a suitcase yesterday, and the thing was so heavy I almost instantly regretted it. I can't always blame people for not helping. It sure is nice when they do, though.

There are things I think NYC does better - such as air conditioning in the train during the summer. It wasn't overly hot in London in mid-July, and I doubt they get as many scorchingly hot days as we do here, but stepping onto the train upon leaving Heathrow, I was a little taken aback by the warm air that hit me. And when the train gets crowded in the summer, that A/C is quite a blessing. Another thing I noticed in London in general, but also in some of the tube stations (I say some because I wasn't in that many of them, and can't say whether this is universal) - the absence of trash cans, or "bins." The stations seemed perfectly clean, but it left me wondering what people do with their trash! I remember holding the same paper bag that I wanted to toss on two different trains on my way to the airport, and then finally asking the woman behind the desk at Virgin Atlantic's check in counter to throw it out for me, because I simply could not find anywhere to do it myself. Not that NYC's stations are any cleaner for having trash cans. There are still rats running around, especially late at night, and there is still tons of litter on the tracks. It's pretty gross. I heard recently that there was a proposal to do away with trash cans in subway stations here, and I don't think it's a good idea. I'm not sure how the London stations stay clean, but I'm pretty sure here people would just start using the tracks as a garbage can even more frequently than they already do.

I loved the aesthetic of the London system, though. I like ours, too, in a lot of the stations, but I loved the clean lines, the iconic signage, the way people move to the right on escalators so those of us who want to walk can pass them .... (OK that's got nothing to do with aesthetics, but it's something people are supposed to do here and don't, and it drives me crazy). So here are some of my favorite photos of the London Underground:

 King's Cross/St. Pancras - A station I was at quite a bit given that I was doing some work at the British Library...

 A very steep escalator. It reminded me of the Lexington Ave station here with the really steep escalator. Notice how that person is standing to the right, though. So I could pass her if I wanted to. Take note, NYC.
 

 I *think* this one was outside the Hyde Park station. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

 This is here just because it's Hampstead, which is where I would live if money/job/etc were no object. My Keats obsession might have something to do with this.

 Maybe my favorite station that I came across, because of the nifty pictures on the wall (that's right, I use the word "nifty") showing the history of Charing Cross. I'm sure these are here for tourists, just like the animal mosaics in the 81st Street station near the NYC Museum of Natural History are there for tourists. I loved them, though!

 I loved the curved ceiling in the tunnel here ...

 Another very steep escalator pic...I think it's the same escalator as before, actually.

 More Charing Cross, because they're just so much fun! Is that a raven in the one on the right? And look at those guys with clubs on the left. What are they doing?

                                         Camden Town Station, near where I stayed.

Finally - I will be traveling in Europe in August - France, Switzerland, and Italy. I look forward to doing another edition of Signal Failures Abroad at that point!

Pink Floyd on the D Train

Musical entertainments of all sorts are very common on the subway, as well as on the platform as anyone who regularly rides the rails in NYC knows. My personal favorite is the Mariachi band, about which I will post more extensively another time. The break dancers make me nervous. I'm always scared both for them (that one of them will crack his skull at some point) and for me (that I'll get kicked in the head). The break dancers, however, are pretty common on the D train, which I ride pretty often through the South Bronx to and from work. The Mariachi band occasionally frequents the D train, too, but I last saw them on the N. However, a few weeks ago, a friend and I were riding the D train together, and this guy gets on with his guitar. Imagine our surprise when he starts singing one of my favorite Pink Floyd songs. Naturally, since I started doing this blog, I decided to start filming.* Apologies in advance for the generally poor quality of this video - it was taken with my iPhone on a moving train:

I regret that the sound isn't better - he actually sounded sort of nice (unlike a lot of subway singers), but my phone seems to have picked up a lot of miscellaneous train noises. What I mostly love about this performance, though, is that he just doesn't care that this isn't really an audience for that song. He's just singing his song and not worrying about it, though he's determined to finish, even when the train is bumpy and when people are getting on and off. I can't blame him - Wish You Were Here is such a great song. Hearing it on the D Train was a completely unexpected, somewhat surreal moment. But that's one of the kind of wonderful things about the train, and indeed about NYC in general; you never know when someone is going to start singing a Pink Floyd song in the South Bronx, or some other completely random and amazing thing. In this case, the unexpected made for a pretty fun ride.

*Since most of these performers ask for a donation afterwards, if I film I always make sure to give them something. If I'm getting something out of it, it's only fair.

Smell Like a Yankee

One fear I had was that once I started this blog, my subway experiences would suddenly become mundane. That I would see nothing whatsoever to interest me or that was worth blogging about. I think that's probably a groundless fear, though. Yesterday while riding the 4 train from Harlem 125th Street to 59th Street/Lexington Ave, I saw the following advertisement:

Please excuse the poor quality of the photo - the train was a bit bumpy. But yes, friends - here it is. The thing you've all been waiting for - the chance to smell like the New York Yankees. I see how this advertisement is drawing on the long-standing tradition of the Yankees, but I'm not sure exactly what that's supposed to smell like. They're invoking history - but things that are really, really old tend not to smell very good. And with what scents does one associate baseball in general? The first thing that comes to mind for me is sweat.

But that makes sense! For what else does the subway smell like on Yankee game days? A week or so ago, I was riding the D train to the Bronx in the middle of the day. I got on at 34th Street, and the train was inexplicably packed! The B is often crowded at this stop, but the D, at that time of day, usually isn't. Not too many people go to the Bronx at that time, I guess. But now, the train was standing-room-only. "No matter," I thought. "I'll get a seat at 59th Street." Lots of people tend to get off at 59th Street, since that's where the train expresses to Harlem. And I had noticed something about this particular crowd. The majority of them were white. They were definitely getting off at 59th. I'd get a seat. But then, I noticed something else - something worrisome - a lot of them were dressed as though for a picnic. Shorts, t-shirts, sneakers and sandals. And a lot of the t-shirts and hats had Yankees logos on them. I sighed in resignation. I would get to sit down at 161st Street. Not before. It was game day. Even so, at least going to Yankee Stadium, people tend to be mostly well-behaved. It's when I run into them going back that they behave deplorably. I have been in so many trains with drunk, sweaty, loud fans, either elated because the Yankees proved victorious, or angry because they lost. Either way, they made for a less than wonderful train experience (and if you're reading this as one of these people - it's not personal and if there were one Yankees fan on the train, it would be fine - it's just the whole phenomena that I find irksome). Lest you think I'm picking on the Yankees - I find any large crowd of drunken sports fans obnoxious. I'll never forget studying in Rome in college, when Rome played Scotland in Rugby. For several days, the streets and bars were packed with drunk Scotsmen in kilts. I referred to it as the Scottish invasion of Rome (and I love Scotland - and kilts - I just don't love drunken sports fans).

But - this blog is about the subway, so I'm getting off-topic. I suppose it's appropriate that the advertisement appeared on one of the two trains that stops at Yankee Stadium. And really, that this product exists is pretty funny, when you think about it. It's just that I don't need New York Yankees cologne. I experience eau de Yankees on the subway, whenever I happen to ride on game day.

Just in case you are interested, though - after doing a little Googling, I discovered that it's possible to order the cologne for in a 1.7 oz. bottle for $49.00 at Macy's, or a 3.4 oz. bottle for 29.00 on Amazon.

Signal Failures: Welcome!

In New York City, there is an entire world that exists below ground. It has its own geography, culture, and etiquette. It's own means of arbitrating disputes and upholding social norms. Many of us are residents of that world for large portions of our lives, day in and day out. Some of us merely visit on occasion, or perhaps once in a lifetime. Yes, dear readers, I'm talking about that strange, bizarre land called subway, allegedly run by an entity called the MTA. We put great trust in this entity. Those of us with daily commutes consign ourselves to claustrophobia-inducing train cars in tunnels deep below the earth, where just about anyone could be sitting next to us (or pressed up against us at rush hour, or puking on us, which happened to me recently).

I've been riding the subway in New York City for nine years now, and rode the T in Boston before that, and have sampled the rails in London, Chicago, Paris, Rome, and even my native Pittsburgh. I consider myself, if not an expert, at least an amateur enthusiast. I've started this blog because friends have told me that my stories are stranger and more frequent than most. But I just don't believe that. I know other people are out there having appalling, terrifying, gross, and occasionally wonderful experiences on the subway. I want to hear about them! I'll post my stories here, and in return, send me yours! Photographic evidence is entirely welcome, too (though please nothing pornographic). Though I'm writing about NYC, I appreciate that some of the horrors and delights of public transportation are universal. Have a good story about Chicago or Paris? By all means, share it! Your story happened in 1977? We could all benefit from a bit of a history lesson. I look forward to posting here, and to hearing from you in return!

As an act of good faith, here are two of my defining subway stories:

November 2006: Beat up

By November of 2006, I'd lived in New York City for just over three years. For various reasons, I was at that time living in the Bronx, Grand Concourse at 175th Street (I've lived in four of the five boroughs in nine years). My little sister lived in the East Village, because she is and always has been much cooler than I am. One Friday night, I met her for dinner, and then hopped on the D-Train to head back to the Bronx. I had pretty much zoned out, listening to my mp3 player and reading a book. Then, at 161st Street/Yankee Stadium, the announcement came on that the train was going express and would skip my stop but (and those of us who live in NYC know this drill) there was another train right behind us that was making all local stops (I've found this announcement tends to vary in terms of truthfulness). Well, I thought nothing of it, though rolled my eyes slightly at the delay. I got out and stood on the platform, and was pretty much staring into space, still listening to my music. The place was crowded with people, so I wasn't creeped out or anything. Then, I noticed a commotion further down the platform. I turned and looked over, and out of nowhere, this girl, (only 21 years old, I would learn later) came hurtling down the platform, and rather than running past me as I expected, she slammed into me and threw me against a wall, and proceeded to basically beat the crap out of me. At some point my headphones came off and she dug her nails into my ears. Mostly, the experience was a blur. At some point, I was on the ground, face down with her on top of me, and kept gasping for help (I couldn't scream - I could hardly catch my breath). I kept thinking someone had to help, but also that she was definitely going to kill me if she could. Well, it seemed like forever before the police showed up, but it couldn't have taken that long. An officer pulled her off of me, and it took about five officers to hold her down. I was sore and bruised, but mostly OK. The cops kind of ushered me to the station, and I saw that there was another woman with them - it turned out she had been the commotion I'd noticed earlier - she spoke only Spanish, but when she gave her statement at the police precinct, there was a translator, and it eerily echoed mine - this person she'd never seen before ran her down and beat her up, and in her case was trying to drag her over the side of the platform. I won't go into the details of how it took two years to prosecute, and how miserable of an experience it is to press charges, because that's not the point of this blog. In the end, she ended up pleading guilty to assault and harassment. I got on the subway the next day. It sucked, but I had no choice. I learned from the ADA a year later that the other victim was still scared to ride the subway, and still cried about the incident. It can be a scary place, that world below ground. Riding that train everyday is an act of faith in humanity and in the systems in place to protect us. In the end, I'm glad I kept riding - because there are so many weird and wonderful things to see down there.

September 2003: Protect Your Dreams

This is one of those rare positive, but still kind of crazy stories, and it happened to me less than a month after I moved here. At this point, I was living in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and had just taken a job as high school teacher in a very rough school in Brooklyn. The school decided to send me to train in a literacy program called Ramp Up. It was the latest fad on which the DOE had spent piles of money, believing it to be the panacea for the ailing state of public education in the city. But that's another blog altogether. At any rate, the Ramp Up training was in Manhattan, and I had to miss several days of work to attend it. On the first day, I put on the business suit I'd purchased at Casual Corner for job interviews the previous spring. I also put on my high heels. I was 23, and this was my first year out of school. I've always hated wearing heels, and frankly, I felt like a kid playing dress up in the suit. I loved Manhattan, but I still didn't really know my way around it or the subway system yet. I knew how to get to my job in Brooklyn, but this was a whole other adventure. Riding the F train toward Manhattan during the morning rush was intoxicating and intimidating. The energy of that morning commute is unique. There is a sense of focus and readiness that I associate with that morning cup of coffee (I've never been a coffee drinker). There were lots of people dressed for their office jobs in the city, no doubt knowing exactly where they were going, and not the least bit nervous about what would happen when they got there. I found a seat, and tried not to look as out of place as I felt. I chose the right seat. Across from me, there was a very cute, but scruffy guy, around my age. He wasn't wearing a suit. He was wearing jeans and a backpack, which was covered with buttons of all sorts. I don't normally go for scruffy, but I liked him right away, maybe because he smiled. I smiled back. We didn't exchange any words. But when we got to his stop, he took one of the buttons off his backpack, walked across the aisle, and handed it to me. I took it without a word, and before I could think of anything to say, he was gone. I looked down at the button. It said "Protect Your Dreams." And suddenly I felt like myself again. I still have the button. Maybe someday I'll pass it along to someone in need. I'm not intimidated by the subway or the city anymore, but it's a nice reminder that no matter how anonymous we sometimes feel in the city, and on the subway especially, that someone we might not even suspect could be looking out for us.

Then again, the time I got puked on, I preferred to remain anonymous ...

Those are my stories. I have more, and I'll post them. But I want yours, too. They can be short or long, funny or serious, uplifting or horrifying. I can post them as anonymous submissions or with your name attached - just let me know. Until then, happy and safe travels!

-M.M.