How could I reach out to the young man across from me, the one with studs piercing his nose, lips, cheekbones, and eyebrows? A tattooed skull peeks at me from the ripped jean hole of his knee. The passenger to the left of me reads in the Spanish language on her phone while the one to the right watches a Korean movie. We have this closeness, but we don’t talk or make eye contact. I don’t reach out to say, “Young man, Jesus loves you.”
“Stand clear the closing doors.” Ding dong.
“Due to a track fire, this train will be going over the F line.” The passenger beside me gives a sound of disgust. A few seconds later, there’s another change, and we hear, “Attention passengers, this train will be going over the E line. However, there is a circuit problem, and we may go at slower speeds.” The train proceeds through the East River on the E line. This is ordinary train travel.
Since selling our car in 2004, we traverse the city by train and bus. It’s a relaxing way to travel, though it requires patience. I will stand on a subway platform early tomorrow morning with others from this city’s vast workforce to wait for an F train to carry me to Roosevelt Island. (Note: Israel’s market is moving to the Good Shepherd Church plaza.) A crazy person or two from Friday night’s revelings may be making a fool of themselves on the platform. No worries. Often now we hear the train announcement, “There are officers on the platform if you need them.”
The MTA rolled out the futuristic R211 subway cars on the A line in March. We spied them going downtown when we were going uptown, but we didn’t dare cross the third rail for a ride. We hoped for one of the new trains last night when we left the mission after tract packing, but the D arrived first at 145th, so we ran down the stairs (yes, I can run; yes, I am careful) and took it to 7th Avenue.
Our stop is Elmhurst Avenue on the R or M line. It means four flights of stairs to get out of the station. We walk one block to Layton Street and home.
The day of the token is long gone. Soon the metro card will be phased out. Today it’s “Tap and ride.”
The lives of New Yorkers play out on the train. I lift my eyes from my phone to see a passenger praying, and then I pray for the young man across from me. God sees us all, here on this E train.
Berniece
Do you have a subway train story?
An Ordinary Life 
Ah yes! Subway experiences! Hurry or wait? Alphie holding out his hand to keep the closing door for the last of our group which was son Lonnie. To young and inexperienced to be left behind . Will he be left behind when God closes ‘the door for all time’?. Remembering the empty car we boarded only to find a homeless one at the far end. The time I actually found the way alone to Jackson Heights to shop fabric with you….and got back home alone.Many more memories.
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Thanks for sharing, Myrna! We pray for the prodigals! Berniece
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Ah, yes! Many.
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From the memory of one who lives in wide open spaces— During my one and only time in NYC, I remember a packed subway. I was squashed more tightly with my parents than I had for many a year. It would have been better if I hadn’t gotten the giggles.
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Michelle, thanks for giving me a laugh tonight. I believe some of the readers imagine a youth girl squished by her parents, never realizing you’re married with youth of your own. I don’t recall the crowded train, but it was a night to remember.
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That was a ride to remember!
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Yes, I have a Russia metro story! (If you haven’t checked out pics of the Moscow metro stations, it would be worth your time.) We had a baby in a small travel stroller on a PACKED metro. The adults huddled around the stroller and some Russian men could not see what was on the floor and assumed we were hoarding space so one proceeds to elbow Landon a couple of hard jabs to the ribs when Ryan said sharply (Russian sounds sharp even at its best), “There is a baby!” Babies are highly esteemed there and man looked properly mortified as he melted backward into the crowd and we were left with enough space for us and our children.
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