I always liked those posters that read, "All I ever needed to know about life I learned..." Please insert poster of your choice here: from my cat, in kindergarten, etc. But after spending Winter term working in New York City, I now understand that those posters were frauds, and the messages they espoused were deceptive lies.
Why? Because all I ever need to know about life, I learned from the New York City subway system.
"The waiting is the hardest part." (Tom Petty). The cursed N and R trains are the slowest in the entire city. I had to travel but three little stops uptown from the World Trade Center to get to work.
However, a sufficient pummeling by commuters coming in from Brooklyn was all I needed to miss the train by two seconds. Then I would wait.
And wait. And wait.
On the return in the evening, I would wait again. When the train finally came, it inevitably stopped at another station to wait for the train in front of it to disengage its emergency brakes.
And wait. And wait.
Someone on the train would inevitably grow tired of waiting. Somewhat deranged looking Passenger X would then loudly make his or her discomfort known to the entire car because naturally, this person was the only one being inconvenienced by the wait.
Yes, Tom. The waiting is the hardest part.
Sometimes you need a little change to get you going in the right direction. In order to get to the Upper West Side from SoHo, you need to change trains. Get on the uptown N, transfer at 42nd Street to the uptown 1 or 9 trains. Do not stay on the same, warm, comfortable train because you will eventually end up in Queens. (Then again, if you were smart, you would get off at 5th Avenue instead of going to Queens. That way you could get in a few hours of playing time at F.A.O. Schwartz.)
Be on the lookout for unexpected opportunities. My friend needed to get to Grand Central Station and I had walked the wrong way to the wrong train. Brilliant move. We ran six blocks to the correct train: the number 6 local. But even as we darted through "Don't Walk" signs, I knew he would not catch his train. As we stepped onto the subway car I pouted over my stupidity.
And then, our chance came. At Union Square I saw in front of me a golden (actually, metallic) opportunity. It arose like a phoenix from the corner of my eye: the number 5 express train. I grabbed my utterly dumbfounded friend, ran across the platform and squeezed us into the express line as we narrowly escaped an untimely death by subway-door-smashing.
P.S. He made his train.
You may never figure it out. Uptown, downtown. Which line, the IRT or the BMT? Did you say that was $1.50 for one token? Right.
And so if there is "police activity" on the N and R lines, how do I get up to 110th Street? Oh, right. Walk a block, take the uptown B or D, transfer to the L that will go across town, then catch the 2 or the 3 at Times Square. Then at 96th Street transfer to the local train.
Good luck. (Snicker)
Sometimes you should just sit back and enjoy the ride. The subway is often crowded and bumpy. You are forced to stand, pressed between two people who are bent on not letting you hold the bar. A pleasant odor of urine may at times infiltrate the car. Maybe if you just read the paper and pretend that no one exists, everyone will just disappear and let you transfer lines all over the city, all day long, without lifting up your head for even a moment. A routine is not hard to fall into.
But sometimes it is worth it to just sit back and watch the people entering and exiting the cars. Sometimes it does not hurt to look out the window and soak in the strength that lies at the heart of New York: its incredible diversity.
Indeed at times, the best thing to do is not to transfer to the express train. After all, the local train will get you to the same place.
