Thursday, May 27, 12 noon, tunnel connecting "L" And "1,2,3 and 9" stations

I have come to know the people by the way they navigate this tunnel every day. There are the weavers. They look for every possible entrance, pass and leave the slowpokes behind. There are the straight-shooters. They walk in almost a straight path, in a steady pace. And there are the slackers.  They seem
never to be in a hurry for anything. They almost always get left behind by the pack.

Monday, May 17, 2004, 11:45 p.m., "L" Train

I looked with pity at a sophisticated woman in a cream outfit.  She looked sick and when there was a chance for her to sit, she slumped in the corner.  Suddenly, she opened up her black leather bag and puked. Nobody minded her. I poked around my bag, found my tissues and mineral water and handed it to her. She took it gratefully. When she threw up once more, I poked around my bag and handed her the last of my tissues. I asked her if she needed medical attention and she said no. I was upset nobody else tried to help her. I helped her since I felt like if I was in the same situation, I wanted somebody to come to my aid.
 

Monday, May 10, 2004, 2:00 p.m., "3" Train

A vendor from the other car entered and made his pitch. “Proud to announce the big sound, whistle for a dollar.”

Nobody minded him.  They should though.  Whistles make good key chain attachments.

I didn’t know what to feel for the gay guy in front of me, annoyance or admiration.  His low-riser jeans lay lower than mine.  But then again, he has a flatter stomach.
 

Friday, April 2, 2004, 2:00 p.m., "L" Train

I saw an old man with an ambulator coming in and I was worried the doors would close in on him since nobody was holding the doors. He slowly made his way towards my seat and when the train lurched a little, he fell all over me. He miraculously righted himself and said sorry. I moved away from the man since he suspiciously smelled like urine. I admire the independence of old people but I worry about them too. Somebody should be looking out for them in the subways. Guiltily, I wasn't among them. I shirked away.

Tuesday, March 30, 2004, 11:30 p.m., "L" Train Platform at Sixth Avenue

I've just missed the train and was walking back and forth in the platform. I saw this old black man standing beside a post, almost catatonic. He was disheveled and had all his possessions beside him, all wrapped in black garbage bags. He looked like an old hermit with his long beard and cane.

A Latina woman was walking around, stopping, walking around, stopping. I soon realized she fell asleep while walking. She was obviously very tired and wanted to get home. I missed the second train since I was waiting for my roommate to come, we were going home together.

"Oh, the train just left? Damn! I missed the train again." And she went on walking and stopping and walking stopping until I stayed away from her for fear shed fall in the tracks and people would think I pushed her or something.

One man heard the whole thing. We looked at each other and bowed our heads in silent mirth. A woman in the distance saw us laughing quietly and she smiled in return. If that woman never stopped sleeping, she'd never catch the train.

Thursday, March 18, 2004, 2:00 p.m., "L" Train

A man came from the other car speaking incomprehensible gibberish of Spanglish. Even the Hispanics in the train couldn't understand him. I think he was asking for money and donations.

A 6-foot, black transvestite passed by. He/she could never pass for a woman. He was so broad-shouldered and his calves were humongous and muscular. I wonder what shoe size he wore.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004, 4:00 p.m., "L" Train

The woman in front of me was reading Catcher in the Rye. I wanted to sidle beside her and share my love of J.D. Salinger's work with her. I wanted to tell her to watch "Igby Goes Down" so we can share ideas after. But no, I resisted the urge and just watched her read. I will have to share my love of J.D. Salingers work with somebody else. Not with some woman who doesn't know me in a subway train.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004, 2:00 p.m., "L" Train

I watch the Chinese lady in front of me fold her umbrella. She folds it the same way I do. Meticulously. Each fold in place and following the creases. After all metal tips were tucked inside the handle, she wrapped the strap around and fastened the velcro. The final touch - she then slipped the umbrellain its case and put it in her bag. I imagined it was another big to-do when she opens up the umbrella. And another ceremony when she folds it. Again. I shouldn't let it bother me. It's her umbrella.

Friday, March 5, 2004, 12:00 a.m., "L" Train, Jefferson Street Station

I was anxious to get home. It was announced over the speaker that a sick passenger needed attention and that they were waiting for EMTs to arrive and take the passenger to the hospital. We were stuck in the Jefferson Station for fifteen minutes. I was contemplating getting off and taking a cab home or maybe just walk but considering how dangerous these parts are, I decided to stay put. Two passengers pushed the emergency button and told the conductor off.

"No profanity please," the conductor said.

Indeed.

Monday, March 1, 2004, 3:00 p.m., "L" Train Platform, De Kalb Avenue

I watch as Hispanic people pass by me. I used to feel like fish out of water. Now it doesn't bother me so much. I've made some friends and this usually dangerous neighborhood is just now my neighborhood. I wait for the train for five minutes. I take my writing tablet out and feel self-conscious and put it back in my backpack. I watch as one mother and daughter pore over the subway map on the wall as another mother and daughter lean to the left to accommodate them. The cool crowd gets on at Bedford. The cool crowd always gets on and off at Bedford. They dress differently, with clashing colors but still, they look good. I anticipate for my ears to ache and it does. My ears always ache between Bedford and First Avenue.

Gail writes to keep sane. It's her goal to someday ride all the subway lines. She lives in Brooklyn.