Subway Sentiments

I know I’ve been harping on my subway experiences a lot lately. Perhaps overmuch. I don’t know if it’s the season, the tourists, my general bad attitude, or the fact that Sartre was right, but I have very much wanted to kill my commuting companions of late.

There are tacit rules of etiquette that one must subscribe to in order to make the subway experience a bit more tolerable for everyone involved. When these rules are ignored, I feel justified in my desire to make you not live.

1. The pole is for holding, not leaning on. New York subway cars have poles every 10 feet or so, around which passengers should arrange themselves like spokes on a wheel, or petals on a big stinking flower of humanity. Your hand is your point of contact with this pole, and that should be it. If you’re leaning your entire body against the pole like Rick against the bar at the Café American, and I accidentally-on-purpose grab your hair or shove you while trying to gain a handhold, too friggin’ bad for you.


2. Crossing your legs is only OK sometimes. On a nice empty car, it’s fine to cross your legs; I do it all the time. But the keywords here are ‘nice’ and ‘empty.’ If it’s rush hour, and you’ve gotten lucky enough to snag a seat, bully for you. Now be grateful for your good fortune and tuck your shit in so the 51,000 people forced to stand and fight the pole-leaners for hand-space have a little room to navigate. Both Monday and Tuesday this week I had to spelunk my way past idiots whose crossed legs protruded far past where they should have, well into the realm of getting-by space. I have no regrets whatsoever about waking the sleeping leg-crossed girl up at 34th Street as I jostled her and stepped on her feet for good measure. I didn’t want to spend any time at all in her lap, but because she had arranged herself like she was sunning in Bali, I had nowhere else to fall but onto her as I tripped over her stupid feet as I tried to get out the doors.
   
   
3. Siddown until it’s time to get up. This is mostly a complaint against tourists, but regular riders can be just as guilty. I guess people get nervous that they won’t be able to get to the doors when their stop comes, so they get up from their seats way early and try to nudge themselves nearer the exit. During rush hour, this is both pointless and outrageously irritating. There is precious little room to maneuver as it is, and when you get up from your seat around 16th Street, knowing you want to get off at Penn, you upset the delicate seated/standing balance and throw the whole train into chaos. People holding poles and bars have to let go and balance themselves unsupported as you try to squeeze by. Placid riders become voracious vultures eyeing each other for your vacated seat. Just sit down, chill out, and wait for the train to stop before you begin your desperate dash for the door; everything will be OK. I’ve been riding the train for 10 years now, and I have never, ever not been able to disembark when my stop comes up. You’ll get there, and getting there early just pisses everyone off.


4. Your screaming children are not charming. There are two commercials running right now that make me want to tear my hair out. One, a radio spot (I think for Volvo) has two off-key kids yowling away to a massacred version of “Jingle Bells.” You’re supposed to be moved by the preciousness of their tunelessness and bungled lyrics, and then go buy a Volvo to protect your precious angels. The other, a TV ad for BMW(?) has two little kids unwrapping a Christmas package and having a nuclear melt-down of excitement. The older child, a boy, keeps screaming “Yes! Yes!!!” with such a blood-curdling shriek I turn the TV off now when the commercial comes on. It upsets my cats. You are supposed to, presumably, feel this level of excitement when you buy a BMW. I wish to god I could mute all shrieking children on the subway in the same way I turn off my TV. Growing up near San Francisco, I rode BART with my parents from a very young age, and I know for a fact ‘inside voices’ were not a suggestion, they were the law, and that once you sit down, you stay sitting down, you don’t run pell-mell up and down the length of the car or jump up and down on your seat. I can’t tell you how many parents I’ve seen letting their little demon-spawn have full fledged freak-outs on the train while they just sit and smile indulgently. You, and your children, should have the pleasure of each other’s company for all eternity. In hell.

That is all. Happy Holidays.