The Subway I: Rush Hour

No major city should be without this utterly essential form of transportation. In most cities the fare is determined by distance while in New York it is possible to go from the northernmost part of the Bronx to the southernmost point in Brooklyn for the same $2 it takes to get from Lincoln Center to 14th Street. Another feature of the New York one is its 24-hour nature. While not all lines operate 25/7 there are some that do so one is rarely stranded after extra hours in the office or late socializing. The fact that there are people standing on any subway train at midnight speaks volumes about the near 24-hour schedule. However, I wouldn’t want to be on it much later than that.

Danger Is Largely An Urban Legend

Reports of the dangers of the New York subway are greatly exaggerated. Anyone who believes they need to make out their wills before getting on the F train has seen too many screenings of The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, which is a complete work of fiction. The worst danger in the New York subway is catching a cold during a crowded rush hour trip to or from work. Tales of people being pushed off the platform by escaped mental patients make headlines because they are rare.

Comedienne Liz Torres used to say she got her best material from the subways. Based on the characters in them I believe this completely.

Passengers

Unlike those stereotypically New York characters in Pelham’s ill-fated subway car, the passengers one sees are a more diverse lot. In the course of one commute it is possible to observe every rush hour type:


The Executive

Twenty, even fifteen years ago, they always had briefcases. Those are now a thing that will help future generations date a film and any executive – of either gender – carrying a similarly-sized bag will have a laptop computer. These are never opened during a morning commute, as those are rarely long enough to accomplish anything meaningful and under crowded conditions the unit is at risk of damage from dropping. Some have eschewed the laptop for the crackberry which, as soon as the tunnels support the signals of the various carriers, will claim their last vestige of freedom from the corporate leash.

Probably half the males and a third of the females of this species are sporting Bluetooth devices. These have become so commonplace the Urban Anthropologist wonders why some clever designer hasn’t come out with a line of decorative wear for them. This could potentially include leather coverings to match shoes, silk ones to match ties, and metal decorations not unlike those on a traje de charro or US cowboy wear. A Jolly Roger, perhaps, for a corporate upstart? Elephants and donkeys to show political affiliation? Ladies’ Bluetooth devices can be covered to match clothes or jewelry. Those peacock-fanned earrings worn by movie ladies in cheongsam dresses come to mind…


The Blue Collar

They don’t wear suits, but they have the same Bluetooth and cell phones. They are usually more talkative among themselves than Executives, though, probably because they don’t have much opportunity to do this at their workplace. They are also visible at other hours of the day.


The Student

Most of these are more casually dressed than any student of previous generations. Many actually carry books and paper notebooks despite the battle cry of the technocrats who announce that laptops are mandatory even for high school students. Perhaps these are carried in their characteristic accessory – the dreaded backpack, which typically hits a shorter commuter in the face with any sudden move or turn.


The Parent / Nanny

Prams, even the folding kind, are the bane of many commuters’ existence. The embarrassed expressions on half the women who maneuver them reveal their ambivalence about bringing them on board at rush hour, attempting to beat the stopwatch that determines how long the doors remain open. Most try to remain near the doors for an easier exit. Most of the children in the prams, if they are not asleep, are miraculously quiet. Perhaps because they have become accustomed to the early morning commute. Perhaps the next generation’s Urban Anthropologist is among them, already learning to observe his fellow passengers.

The Island

Regardless of social status, the Island is the individual who locks out the rest of humanity by use of an iPod or other similar device. Some, alas, will become truly isolated through deafness within a few years, based on the volume at which they listen to their favourite music. If a passenger five feet away can hear song lyrics, there is damage being done to someone’s eardrums.


The Beggar

When it comes to beggars in the subway, the Urban Anthropologist is a hardened urban cynic. Their numbers during rush hours are sufficient that at a dollar a head per day encountered, my takehome pay would be thoroughly depleted before the next paycheck. The most notable of these beggars are usually

Former mental patients who often plant themselves firmly in front of a seated passenger until they give them something or exit the train

Clean, modestly-dressed women who recite hard-luck stories about widowhood and children. Some are very believable the first two times, but when one sees them six months later, one wonders whether this is, in fact, their choice to do. Alternatively, they could be conducting a social experiment

Musicians, usually singers traveling in trios or quartets. Unlike the buskers of Music Under New York they usually sing a capella. Many of them are actually good; the most common sound is R&B or doo-wop. Occasionally one sees a Mexican Regional group in this venue but, alas, the Urban Anthropologist has yet to spot the next Pablo Montero among them. Despite that, most are good enough to merit donations for which they graciously thank the passenger

Kids, usually selling candy for some school trip or team. Which speaks volumes about how public education is sorely in need of better management. Many have forced smiles and look as though they’d rather do anything else

The Homeless

It is a guarantee that you normally do not see a half-empty subway car during rush hour. If you do, it’s empty because a long-term homeless person is in it, requiring any passengers inside to keep a distance from the stench. Most will not venture near such a person out of fear that s/he is a mental patient not taking psychotropic medication. Surely anyone who hasn’t bathed since the Clinton administration could not be mentally healthy. Once in a while you will hear an announcement on a platform “Due to a sick passenger at 14th Street, all Number 5 train service will be delayed” the transit police are likely to be removing a passenger like this. Leave them to their job.

The Busker

The Good:

Music Under New York includes among its members professionals and semi-pros who perform for donations and sell their self-produced CDs. Those lucky or good enough to merit the prime locations often draw crowds who listen through entire songs and purchase the CDs. Mecca Bodega, an unusual duo, are one of the leading attractions, playing their folk-indie music on hand drums and the hammered dulcimer in Grand Central Station or other key connecting points. Many fans stay for more than one song; one almost expects the next listener to pass over a joint.

William Ruiz, another percussionist, can sometimes be found on the 7 train platform in Grand Central, playing his Afro-Indian influenced music that somehow keeps rhythm with the train itself. One almost wants to miss the train to listen to him, but he does have CDs available for purchase.

The Bad:

Down in the East Village a few years ago was a would-be Bob Dylan impersonator who haunted the 8th Street station. The Urban Anthropologist is no major fan of Dylan, but is quick to say that nothing sounds worse than a bad imitator of him. Perhaps it was the guitar being out of tune but the domino effect of this man’s performance capability made one long for the arrival of any train.

A soprano saxophonist who hangs out at the 59th Street station puts one in mind of the sadder notes Tony Curtis drew from the sax in Some Like It Hot. Except that from a soprano sax the sound is sufficiently painful at the end of a stressful day to make the Urban Anthropologist contemplate offering him $5 to refrain from playing until the arrival of the next train – either next train. Only two things prevent this:

It sets a bad precedent

Any busker at the next stop could be worse.

On the main floor in the Times Square stop is an elderly gentleman who plays en electronic keyboard, accompanied by some rather creepy dancing dolls. It is possible to co close one’s eyes to his music and picture an afternoon at the skating rink except… it is immensely foolish to close one’s eyes in any public place. It's better to head over to the Virgin Megastore to look for music to your taste.