Train stories

I dunno, I just thought the beat-up mattresses on top of this car, combined with the license plate AND the back window sticker, were sorta funny. Spotted on the Long Island Expresswaythis afternoon. But I suppose even divas have to haul mattresses once in a while, right?

Morning observation, following guy from R train up through Times Square station over to 1 Train -- is it just me, or do guys wearing "Jeter" on the back of their shirts seem particularly obnoxious? It seems to go beyond the "Yankee Fan" thing...

Afternoon. 1Train south from 116th. Door opens. Lady inside gets up, heads toward door, I assume, to exit. So I wait for her to exit, while another woman waiting outside with me starts to push past. Turns out inside lady is NOT exiting, just suddenly decided to get up and stand in the doorway. Other lady beats me inside to better seat. Wonderful. Terrific. (Actually, there were seats, it was just the principle of it all... I feel like a dang fool!

Lady next to me is holding big purse on lap, sticking out beyond "her" space into "my" space (well, anything that pokes me is in "my" space). She will not move it. I shift a bit. She shifts CLOSER to me and her purse pokes me again. COME ON! (Can you tell I was a touch irritated this afternoon?)

Train thins out at 96th street. Rather loud group of what appear to be Haitian men at other end of train. Make that VERY loud. Also, loud girl sitting a bit closer to me, prattling on in boyfriend's face. I have headache from work and don't think I can take this -- at next stop I get out and enter next car. Peace until Times Square station.

We get out. Approach stairs to main part of station. People coming DOWN the stairs (there are three sections) are using the left and right side of all sections except for the far right one. I would press the point and make people start walking on the "proper" side of the stairs, but there's a pregnant lady coming down where I was going to make my power play. I concede, am forced to give her a break. Sigh. Stupid pregnant lady. It's off to the right side (keep in mind this all happens within several seconds). I get behind thin single file line moving up, wondering why it's moving so slowly. I see no crippled or elderly folk ahead of me. I do see one young woman carrying what may be an instrument case. Perhaps she is the cause, perhaps not, but in any event, at the top of the stairs she pauses, further slowing our progress. "No, no, no! This is not allowed! We must all keep moving!"

I make my way around her, down the short flight of stairs and across the wide concourse toward the R-train stairs. A large crowd is gathered around the place where the musicians usually are set up. I find myself torn between annoyance -- that the street dancers have created this large crowd of people around them, blocking my usually straight path to the R-train stairs -- and a desire to stay and watch. Sometimes they are pretty good. Usually shirtless young black men dancing (is it still called break dancing or is it something else now?) and working the crowd. I give them points for showmanship, athleticism, and bravura. I can't help but wonder sometimes, though -- while they perform, do they have cohorts moving through the crowd, pickpocketing distracted tourists? Cynical, perhaps, but it could be true.

I opt to move on, around the throng, through more crowds, and down to the R train. It is lucky that I moved on just then, because the R-train comes into the station right as I'm getting to the bottom of the stairs. It is not crowded and I get a seat. A young Japanese lady sits next to me and begins to fan herself with a pocket fan that she's taken out of a special case. I make a comment -- "Ah, that feels good." She smiles and continues fanning. After a while it gets a little too cold for me and I find it annoying. Well I suppose SOMETHING had to annoy me, god forbid I just relax and ACCEPT things! I don't say anything, (can you ever really say anything on the train?) and I put up with the breeze until she gets off at Queens Plaza.