Well, I suppose my good luck streak had to end. I had a nice week-long stint of easy commutes on the 6 train to and from work…until today.
Something happens in the city when it rains; trains are less reliable (it’s actually shocking they can be LESS reliable than they already are), people are more obnoxious (also shocking), and there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that your commute won’t be a nightmare.
I left work at 6pm, and was standing on the platform at 23rd Street shortly after. The train didn’t come for ten whole minutes, which in commuter time is about three hours.
Because the train took so long to come, the crowd on the platform started to grow at a rapid pace. People were wet from the rain, smelled extra funky, and looked increasingly agitated.
The train arrives, and now it’s a game of Human Tetris to try and fit all the people in their various shapes and sizes into the packed car. People are shoving, people are irate, and my anger level is reaching unhealthy decibels.
I’m now in a packed-to-the-max sweaty and stinky train car, and have lost count at the amount of eye rolls and sighs that I’ve produced. Some idiot tries to squeeze into the car even though he cannot possibly fit, but makes several attempts anyway. All the while the train doors begin to close and then jerk back open because he’s in the way, making that dreaded sound… BING-BONGGGGGG!
“Knock it off, asshole!” someone shouts.
I hate commuting.
The doors finally close, and I now feel something pressing into my back. I ignore it at first, but it continues; and the force becomes stronger. I turn around to find an ignorant tourist (how did I know she was a tourist? The huge camera and strap around her neck was a good indicator) behind me, so close that her body was beginning to push into mine. I shot her a nasty look. She didn’t notice. She continued to press into me. MY ANGER LEVEL IS THROUGH THE ROOF.
I slightly shove her. She slightly shoves me back. Am I going to get into a fight on the 6 train? I will if I have to. I hate this tourist.
I look down. The guy in the seat in front of me is mouthing the words to a song on his iPod. I hate him too.
Finally, my stop! The doors open at 68th Street and I realize I need to get through a crowd of 400 people. ”Excuse me…EXCUSE ME….EXCUSE MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!“
I’m sweating, I’m frazzled, and I almost lose my oversized Michael Kor’s bag in the shuffle. I finally make it out alive. I feel like I’ve been in battle.
I walk out, straighten up my clothes, fix my hair, and breathe.
Let’s hope it’s better tomorrow.