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30      Subway Stories

So I was sitting across this guy with a latex headband. He looked exhausted or drunk or somewhere in between. Stations after stations were passed. Express trains made it easy for us, the passengers, to think that we were racing against the time.

Parsons Boulevard, Sutphin Boulevard, Continental Avenue. People came and left. Before you knew it, there was a big guy with a moderate voice, speaking to himself while pointing at his new toy. It was not obvious what kind of toy in his hands. His words were unclear, except for “This little thing is powerful!”. I did not want to open my eyes or find out what in the world he was talking about. I tried opening my eyelid quite a bit, but I was unsure, for the fact that I had just seen another insanity on the train.

Next stop, Roosevelt Avenue. I had to make a transfer to the #7 train. Thirty seconds before the train stopped, that latex-headbanded guy threw up, right on the train. He got up and simply slammed ‘it’ onto the door. Ugh! I dreaded of being the one who saw it. I thought I was the only one until I saw there was a luckier person happened to be sitting next to him. Both of us got up at the same time to move toward the next exit for the guy had just stunk the whole car.

Walking up toward the escalator, I saw at least five military soldiers guarding the whole station. At a second, I thought the level of terror alert had just been decreased one level to ‘Moderate’, according to the news last night. It was all good, anyway. The more guards, the safer it would be. Most of us would feel that way, for the very least.

Upstairs, there were two folks from the NYPD, who were trying to help a single mom to push her baby cart pass through the turnstile that looked almost impossible to do by oneself. At least tonight they did not have to bust another illegal operation.

And you know what? This is just one night, one story, one subway story — New York City subway story. Until next time. Same time, same stop.