by Patrick Conway

“You want a swipe gang? Cause I want a swipe! You kids want to get in? Cause I sure want to get in! Here we go folks! Live from the power washed platform—I am your host Bob—and with me as always my co-host and old friend Mr. Vagabond. Say hello old friend."

            "Hello old friend." (Laugh track and applause)

            "Oh Vagabond, you crack me up."

            "That's because you are a cracker Bob." (Laugh track and applause)

            "Why I oughtta—so what are you up to Mr. Vagabond?”

            “You know me Bob, just standing here at the useless trap door gate that is now replacing the old carnival turnstile—selling some rides and making a living. Doing what I got to do to make a living. Contrary to what people believe Bob, the analysis of real wages increasing as per the nominal figures used in assessing the growth of economic development analogous to inflation and government productivity is just a load of bull and adjusted figures.”

            “Wow Mr. Vagabond I have no idea what you just said.”

            “Well basically Bob, New York City wages just don't cut it and that is why I sell metro card swipes.”

            “And we thank you for your service Mr. Vagabond.”

            “Also Bob, I just want to give a shout out to God, the big vender upstairs that makes life possible for all of us and for making these metro cards available to me.”

            “Mr. Vagabond you are a wild one.”

            “You know it Bob.”

            “And we all love you for it baby.”

“Well I like you too Bob, but I don’t know if we are ready for love yet!” (Laugh track and applause)

“Well guys and dolls, here we go people to the New York City show every commuter loves to hate and hates to hate. SWIPE THAT CARD! (Applause and deafening subway cars screeching to a halt) Let’s get our first contestant shall we? Now as you all know at home, we sent Mr. Vagabond out to see if he could find tourists that were willing to give him, a total stranger, a whole bunch of personal information so we can use it to call them on down to the platform for our show. So tell us how do you do it Mr. Vagabond?"

            "I have my tricks Bob. And I'm not telling."

            "Well will you at least tell us who our first lucky tourist is?"

            "That I can do Bob. That I can do. Let me see—I have here Mrs. Ingrid!" (The crowd cheers as Ingrid pushes her way in)

          "Ohhhhhhh Bob Halooooo!"

            "Step right over here you little munchkin donut. You sure are excited to be here. Now go ahead and give the wheel a big old spin."

            "Weeeeeeeeee! Spin! Spin! Halooooo wheel!"

            "There goes the wheel… what will Ingrid land on… there it goes… that was quite a spin… there it spins… spinning by will you get to work on time… spinning by will your metro card work… spinning by what is that wet substance all over the subway car that is now all over your hands… spinning by the ridiculous delay due to the garbage train full of sleeping MTA employees… spinning by what is that smell… spinning by insufficient fare… spinning by please swipe again… spinning by please swipe again at this turnstile moron… spinning by why is that man rubbing against me… spinning by no cards or tokens at this turnstile… spinning by what do those bright and broken futuristic two hundred million dollar hanging LED signs do… and landing on… how many are getting thru!  

            "Come on gang, One—Two—THREE—SWIPE YOUR CARD!"

            "Oh I am so ready to swipe, Bob!"

            "Okay now Ingrid, you know the rules: On both sides of this trap door you have fifty commuters waiting to get out and fifty commuters waiting to get in. So begins the deliciously hot and trendy first round of our show for Ingrid—How Many Are Getting Thru?

            “That is right folks, Ingrid is all set to go—step right up here Ingrid. Okay, over here on the “IN” team we have Ingrid representing… Ingrid sweetheart, tell us a little about yourself—where are you from?”

            “Halloo, my name is Ingrid… I am from Bulloshitavivk… I am visiting my aunt in Queens…I am trying to get a yellow train uptown.”

            “That’s great Ingrid, are you excited to be here today?

            "Yes, Bob."

            “Ingrid, do you have the slightest clue how to swipe your card? Quick before time runs out.”

(TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK BBBBRRRR)    

            “NOOOO! Oh my gosh, I don’t have any idea…I am so embarrassed… I am not even sure how to work this thing… I just keep pushing this big gate and nothing happens… I am so embarrassed…look I push push… nothing Bob.”

            “Ohhhhhh Ingrid. So close, so close and you are at the front of the line and you have all these people behind you waiting to get in. I am so sorry but you lose Ingrid. You know what that means Mr. Vagabond.”

            “OUT TEAM GO! OUT TEAM GO!"

            “Ok time is up, gang. Mr. Vagabond who do we have standing around in our studio audience today?”

            “Well Bob, we have some very frustrated commuters trying to get to work as usual, they are pretty irritated at the moment. Let's see who we got in the crowd today." 

"My name is Rob and I am just trying to get to work."

"My name is Samantha, the L isn't running so I had to take the A and get off for the shuttle, but none of the MTA employees know where the shuttle is picking up."

"My name is Jonas and I am going nowhere on the D, except it rained two weeks ago which means all the above ground Brooklyn trains are still running slow."

"My name is Robyn and I am from the 6 line… Holla! My trains are all brand new, which means they painted the old trains and inserted a computerized voice that tells you to get off in between stations."

“My name is Penelope and I am new to the city. At first, the crowds that form at the turnstiles intrigued me. Then I realized, oh, I get it! In the middle of rush hour all of the turnstiles have been shut down with metal gates and chains while all the subway riders are forced to use the one working ceiling to floor revolving trap gate—they look like some secret escape hatch door or something." 

"It appears Bob, that the commuting audience has come to the conclusion that the revolving trap door may actually be an entrance to a wormhole."

"A wormhole Mr. Vagabond! Wowser!"

"Yes Bob, a wormhole. You enter from this smelly old 34^th street platform and exit the wormhole into a place called—The Metro Zone."

"The Metro Zone Mr. Vagabond? Jeepers that sounds spooky kooky."

"Yes Bob, yes it is."

“Well Mr. Vagabond let's get back to business shall we? Let’s go on over to the “OUT” Team… who do we have here Mr. Vagabond?"

"Today Bob, we have a wonderful and delightfully white family from Poland."

            "I believe it is Nebraska, Mr. Vagabond."

           "Ah you know I love everybody Bob. I love them Brown Yellow Puerto Rican and Haitian…"

            "I would like to present the Dumpty family Bob."

            "Well Dumptys come on in!"

(Crowd cheers as the Dumptys push their way in)

            "Come right over here and tell us a little about yourselves kids."

            “Hi, my name is Barney, this is my wife Betty, and these are our two little kids, Jenna and Gina.”

            “Aren’t they just precious. Hello little angels. Now where are you guys from?”

            “Midwest sir, bread basket of America, sir. HOOORAHHH! SEMPER FI BABY!”

            "Whoa Mr. Vagabond we got a live one!"

            "AAAAAOOOOO Bob."

            “Isn’t that just fantastic gang? So tell me Barney, you have four people on your team, that is four people to get OUT before someone gets in. Do you have a strategy?”

            “Well, we have been standing here for about five minutes now. Our little one has gone out and in a few times and did a good job at wasting some commuter’s swipes. She is just small enough to get in and out. And then our other little one just keeps getting stuck and screaming her head off at this ear shattering decibel that just drives the commuters nuts… yah and you know she’s just doing real good at slowing the line down. Oh and my wife has this side bag of hers that she can get caught on all four revolving bar doors at once… so the whole thing locks up. Meanwhile you know, I am trying to find our passports and city guide map so we are prepared when we get to the street level.”

            “Now, Barney, you have dozens of people behind you trying to get out, dozens trying to get in, and only one revolving trap door open—you are an American citizen from the Midwest for god’s sake! You must be brain dead to think you need a passport to get out of the subway and two—do you really think this is the right freaking place to look at a map?”

            “Gosh, well gee wiz Bob, I never thought about it like that. Uh, semper fi—Bob?”

            “Ohhh you moron. Well time is up. I am sorry, if you could just walk over here to the handsome Mr. Vagabond—tell them what they have won, Mr. Vagabond!”

            “You have won TWO, that’s right TWO AA Batteries and a cheese sandwich, and if anyone else is hungry in the audience I have one peanut butter with no jelly and one with jelly and cheese, just ask if you want one.”

           "Wow super duper! Thanks, Mr. Vagabond. We watch your show all the time and my kids just love ya'll so much, they just love ya'll so darn much. Shucks—double shucks!"

           "Ingrid darling, come back over here. I know that the Dumptys let twelve swipers get to the other side of the turnstile… and you only let… TEN!"

            "WHOOOOOOO! Sheesh sha Cheboygan!"

            "You win round one Ingrid, congratulations!"

            "Okay so for all the people watching, let us remind them now that in round two we will take the metro card away from you and you will need to re-enter the subway system. Now to do this, you will need to locate either a booth with a clerk… or a working MTA MetroCard vending machine. Now I know it is tempting, but you know the rules, so if you break down and get taken in by the silver tongued vagabonds for a swipe, you will be ejected from the game. And Ingrid you will know when your time is up when you hear the guy who sounds like the “Bing Bong” subway doors.”

            "Oh yes I know I know. I am so ready. Sooooo ready Bob."   

            "Off you go Ingrid—Ok gang, let's keep our eye on Ingrid as she tries to get her Metro Card. It would appear as though she has run into a snag, the line has stopped and our Ingrid has scurried to a corner. Ohhhhh! Ingrid just took a vicious hip-check from a school kid running with a box of candy bars he is selling to raise money for his team. It looks like Ingrid is bruised but she is back on her feet. Okay, she has moved down the platform… she appears to be stuck at the vending machines… What could the problem be? Could it be an impending tropical storm maybe?

            "NOOOOO BOB!"

            "I know gang, it must be a traffic jam?"

            "NOOOOO BOB!"

            “Maybe, a strawberry jam?”

            “NOOOOO BOB!”

            "A passing tornado?"

            "NOOOOO BOB!"    

            "Well then what could it be gang?"

            "KOOKY ARMED GUARDS THAT ARE SWORN TO SILENCE BOB!"

            "That's right kids. Ingrid has run smack into the eye of the silent vending machine guards. Rumored to be born of Vikings and dragons, bred to stand around and pretend to be part of the human race. Now we all know they are not allowed to speak under any circumstances, no matter how many of them are standing there, they all must use their Jedi mind powers to concentrate on resetting the vending machine. Let us go talk to them shall we kids? Hey guys, how goes it today? What do you guys think about Ingrid? Does she stand a chance?”

            “Mmmmm.”

            “You know the machine isn’t taking credit or debit cards?”

            “Mmmmm.”

            “And there is no change in it either.”

            “Mmmmm.”

            “And there is no Clerk at any booth here?”

            “Mmmmm.”

            “So what are her options?”

            "Mm… mm… mm."

            "I see.

            "Mm…mm."

            "You don't say. Well kids, it looks like Ingrid really has her work cut out for her today. Wait, I think, yes, I think one of them is writing Ingrid a note. Can we zoom in on that… yes… can you get it… perfect… let us zoom in and see if we can read the note…" 

            Can you help me? I need to get a MetroCard. - Ingrid

            The moon landing was all fake. We were never there. - Kooky Guard 

(TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK - BING BONG)

            "Oh tough luck, Ingrid. Ingrid you are just sweeter than the very crumbs at the bottom of a cereal box aren't you darling?"

            "Oh nooo."

            "Okay, Ingrid—you won round one—but you timed out in round two. Now you still have one more chance. Do you know what is next my little crunchy grape nut?"

            "Lightning round, Bob!"

            "That is right. Mr. Vagabond can you please give the kids at home a quick summary of the lightning round."

            "Bob, you have overworked and underpaid civil servants that are greatly under appreciated and employed by the MT of A. Now on top of their heavy workload, we now throw in some crazy crackers that ask them question after meaningless question. And then you try to convince them to let some cracker in for free. And that is basically the lightning round."

            "Thank you Mr. Vagabond. Now Ingrid, in this round we have thirty seconds to get directions from an MTA clerk on how you can get a transfer. We got to work as a team here, so do you believe in me?"

            "Yes Bob, I believe I believe!"

 (Enter angry MTA clerk)

            “Hellooo Mr. MTA. How are you today?”

            “Disgruntled, you know. My job sucks so that means I hate you.”

            “Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Listen, crazy thing, there are about forty turnstiles that are locked and only one open. We are in the middle of rush hour and all that we have here is this one trap door… could you maybe… I don’t know… awwww heck I'll just be crazy and ask it… could you open two… or just one one turnstile… come on, for the lady here? What do ya say?””

            “Talk to the mayor.”

            “Come on, just one turnstile Mr. MTA.”

            “Uh uh, a box, a fancy MTA vending card machine fancy pantsy box can do my job… why don’t you go ask the fancy pantsy box with it’s fancy shiny silver and those shiny LED’s… do my job cracker.”

            “What if I were to say, oh I don’t know… I got a baby stroller… can’t get that through the trap door, could you help me then Mr. MTA?”

            “Sorry, can’t help.”

            “A bike?”

            “Sorry can’t help.”

            “How about a cello?”

            “Sorry can’t help.”

            “Grocery cart?”

            “Sorry can’t help.”

            “A seeing eye dog?”

            “Sorry can’t help.”

            "Hospital Gurney."

            "Sorry can’t help."

            "Suspicious package—of cookies…"

            "Ahhhh, you almost got me Bob!"

           “Wow, you are good Mr. MTA. So what does this little lady Ingrid have to do to get a transfer?”

            “I suggest you go back up those stairs, walk a block, take the M5 bus over to 42^nd, transfer over to the M1 bus, get on, then get off the bus, no reason whatsoever, walk on over to Grand Central Terminal, buy a hotdog, go down to the shuttle, take that over to Times Square, see a blind man with little dancing dolls, tell him the pigeon has crowed at the old bell tower, he will give you a slip, take that slip and put it in a newspaper, get on the Yellow line going downtown, take it one stop, get out and walk straight, use the flame arrow to burn the fourth bush, get the key and take it to the lady of the lake, she will direct you to a turtle in central park, the turtle will lead you down one of the rambles until you come across an actual patch of grass that isn't fenced off, a duck will be there waiting with the transfer and you are all set.

            “Wow, thanks so much Mr. MTA man! How could I ever repay you?”

(TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK BBBBRRRR)

            "Oh Ingrid, you know what that means. Time is up my sweet little box of thin mints. But you are not going home empty handed. Tell her what she has won, Mr. Vagabond."

            "Ingrid, you have one two, that's right two, packages of incense sticks and a broken lighter."

            "But that's not all is it Mr. Vagabond?"

            "No it is not Bob. Ingrid, you will also receive an all expense paid dinner for two at the hot dog cart of your choosing!" 

            “What a show kids, be sure to join us again tomorrow. And gang just remember, the next time you come down to ride the subway and you see a crowd forming, and you start wondering—what famous movie star has attracted this crowd of onlookers? You may have just entered that grey zone between reality and myth—another region with no limits or depth—a place where time and space no longer exist—a place where a commuter walks through a revolving trap door and enters another dimension—you are now entering, The Metro Zone." 

A native New Yorker, Patrick Conway is working on his first novel.