Mike's Subway and Pepperment Baths

I’ve come to understand New Yorker’s love/hate relationship with the subways. From what I can tell, it boils down to most of my experiences today in one horrible subway fiasco.

It’s a cloudy 90 degrees with humidity pushing 75-80%. If you’ve never lived in a humid and populated environment, imagine a continual dirty mist… like sweat hovering everywhere. You feel clean for 10 minutes a day: during your gloriously freezing showers.

I’m excited to get off work a bit early and rush to the F train. The subway stations in NYC are typically underground and my station is no exception. Thus, the temperature on a hot day be nearly unbearable. As I quickly swipe my MTA card (looking like a real pro New Yorker, if I do say so myself) I rush through the toll booth hoping to catch a waiting train. I should of known better.

The subway station was empty. This can mean only one thing: you just missed a train. Sighing, I take a deep breath, loosen my tie a bit, and wait. Slowly the platform becomes increasingly populated. Eventually, there is a slew of tired and hungry people all looking in the same direction. I finally figured out why it’s important to watch patiently for the gleam of the subway lights coming towards the platform: it’s a signal for the cheaters. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been waiting there for 20 minutes… as soon as the subway appears, half the people standing in the back push their way forward. Today was no exception. However, my annoyance was dampened a bit by the realization that a train had finally arrived.

There are usually 9 separate trains connected together to make one train. This is important to know… so just hang with me.

The first 4 trains pass me and I can see each is packed to the brim with people. Catching this train will be a challenge. Bring it on.

The doors open and the cattle are off... everyone shoving desperately to get their elusive admission to a ride we all already paid for: a ride home.

In all the stampeding craziness I make an amateur mistake: I got on the subway that seemed oddly under populated. This means either one of two things: a homeless man is on the train that desperately needs a bath or the air conditioner is not working. For me, it was the later.

This train was at least 110 degrees. Seriously, I felt like glazing ham. Before I can react, the doors close, and I am standing next to hundreds of sweating and frustrated people. A train full of armatures. I can hardly breath as the air is too thin and muggy.

Just when I thought this 30 minute train ride couldn’t get any worse, I realized that my new neighbor, aka BO Man, is holding both arms in the air and shamefully looking down. “Breathing is entirely overrated anyway,” I try to tell myself. I swear I see a little red man giggling with horns and a pitch fork… but that could just be my oncoming heat stroke talking.

We finally make it to the first stop. “Only four more to go,” I think. A few get off to make a run for a new (and hopefully air conditioned) train. As many know, this venture is risky during rush hour as you could get off and there could be no room left on the other. I’m torn, but decide not to risk the maneuver. As our train doors close and we start moving again, I see my more adventurous friends waiting on the platform: bad gamble.

Stop two. An old Hispanic women with a walker squishes her way on, only to realize too late that this train was clearly a replica of the lower levels of hell. As usual, no one gives up their seat as she braces herself against the door. A continual stream of sweat drips down the center of my back. I close my eyes and dream of an ice cold shower… or maybe a bath made with nothing but ice and peppermint paddies. I finally open my eyes and realize BO Man has conducted an unexpectedly bold maneuver: he removed his shirt and is showing the world his sweaty, black haired, and BO reeking chest. KILL ME NOW.

The third stop arrives with a plethora of action. Old Hispanic Lady makes a run for it! “GOD SPEED,” I think as she darts up the platform. Old Hispanic Lady is replaced briefly by Change Man. “Everyone can I you’re your attention….” he says as he enters the train. “I am hungry and was hoping you could… arrgggg (Change Man’s face drops as he finally steps into the train)… forget this (insert profanities)… this car is HOT.” Just then Change Man bolts off the train.

Finally we arrive at 7^th Street. Put a fork in me, this ham is done cooking. The doors open, I rush out, and I am struck by what feels like of cold refreshing air. However it was, in fact, typical 90 degree New York air humid air. However, for that brief moment, it was my personal 90 degree freezer. I made finally made it home.

Goodbye Risky BO Man, Old Hispanic Lady, Change Man, and the little devil I’m sure was in that train. I’m going home to soak in peppermint and ice.