Subway Sessions

Tip toe between the grates and concrete, between the hustler and the Mexican ladies. Don’t bump into the baby strollers. Cut off the too slow tourists and the sagging pants teens. A man in a wheelchair sitting outside of grand central station with little teeth and a lot of time, his dirty sneaker extending on to the busy sidewalk. Doors swinging open, swishing shut and commuters entering, exiting, holding and sneaking. “Thank you. Excuse you..” Long line at Starbucks and German gentleman with backpacking backpacks purchasing train snacks. Get pass the the metro machines, side step between the customers at the newsstand as the octopus giving prices and taking cash for a newsday, a water, a scratch off, no, the holiday one. Avoid the girl in the YOLO hat, stare down the blue eye-linered girl with too many accessories. First rule of riding the subway, “don’t make eye contact”. & Swim against the current into the station, watching the tail end of your train escape. Click away on the yellow bump road hoping each edgy person keeps their bags to themselves. Make no eye contact. Let no one win. Let no one in. Next stop 14th Street Union Square. Watch the end of your train wag it’s tail as it disappears into its tunnel. “Common courtesy!” A teenager with sense yells as he exits. The passenger next to you hums to themselves as they drops nuts into their mouth from an open plastic packet. A peanut lands on your leg, rolls right off the tip of your boot. Glance at the passenger who continues to shake the bag into their mouth. Ignorance is bliss is nuts to boots. Old man sits next to them and screams, “dis wot I hate bout da subway, people always lookin atchu,” and exits Myrtle Wycoff, hobbling cane clad. You notice the nutty woman continuing to hum as if the nut rolled off her boot, screamed and hobbled off with a cane.

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