the true secret of the subway

Sorry for the major gap in service, folks. I've been busy. (Or rather, gettin' busy, go me.) But I'm taking a moment to give you yet another commentary on the NYC subway system.

Last week the subway royally pissed me off twice. Once, due to no fault of their own, they shut down service for practically the entire east side, sending people into raging fits of stress over the inability to get ANYWHERE in ANY direction. But it was because a building partially collapsed over the track, and to be safe, they couldn't run trains under it. Fair enough. I don't know what happened the other time, but the end result was me taking an hour and a half to get to work via a Very Crowded Bus that stopped approximately every nanometer. It was not a good day.

Anyhow, today, like most weekends lately, I walked to my 6 train only to find, once again, it wouldn't be stopping here. Due to construction on the tracks, I must either walk or take the Very Crowded Bus to another station where ALL the trains will stop despite being very very delayed for sharing the same tracks.

So, tra-la, off I strolled into the biting cold New York City air. By the time I reached the next station, I was nearly frostbitten and unable to speak. But my automatic positioning system took over and I got down the stairs and through the turnstile. When I came to, I realized a train was stopped downstairs, and if I ran, I might be able to make it.

I quickly broke into the subway sprint, which depending on your athletic ability is described as either going down the stairs 2 or 3 at a time, or as in my case, just taking them in such rapid sequence that it appears blurry to anyone without a strobe light, which usually includes the old man with a cane that inevitably exists for the sole purposes of delaying your emergency subway sprint.

When I reached the landing between flights of stairs, the little train "Peeker" was leaning out the window to see if he could close the doors. There's one of these on every train. They wait in a specially designed subway car that has two compartments--one on either side of the train. And at each station, these Peekers (who probably have a more technical name but for now will be called Peekers) slide down their specially designed window and stick their head out, looking to the right and to the left, making sure most passengers have boarded and that no small children are stuck between the doors. Then, apparently, they and they alone have the ability to close the doors.

So the doors on the train were closing, but I made a dash anyway, just in case I could be one of those really REALLY cool subway riders who knows that often the doors will reopen just for a second and people can sneak through. But that didn't happen. Meanwhile, a girl behind me toting a yoga mat made a dash for the next car's doors because they were still open. As she extended her hand to stop the closing door, the door smashed shut and left her high and dry.

The girl, who may I remind you was toting a yoga mat, turns and looks and the Peeker from about a foot from his face and screams "You're an ASSHOLE," and gives him the bird. Now, while this is personally one of my favorite comments and gestures, I usually reserve it for the car. But not this girl.

And to my surprise, the Peeker, wearing his official MTA uniform, very calmly yells back "Fuck you bitch," which implies, to me, that this happens all the time. I had no idea.

The girl then took her yoga mat and stormed off to go sit on a bench somewhere. All I could think was she must REALLY need her yoga. I was a little afraid and wouldn't look her in the eye. But the point is, these Peekers really have ALL the control. Here I was thinking the driver up front either counted to 20 and pushed a button, or did it entirely at random, and the Peekers were just there to raise an alarm if anything bad was happening. Hell no. The Peekers have all the power. All of it.

This changes EVERYTHING.