Just Another Afternoon....

On the commute home I rush down the stairs at the Wall Street stop only to be slowed by a woman wearing a ridiculous pastel pink dress that looks cross between African tribal leader and Pretty Pretty Princess. She has her hair all done up in little crazy braids that circle her forehead. Her intricate dress is so long it is dragging everywhere on the ground and getting dirty in the subway nastiness. She is going down the steps in front of me, dress slowly pulling behind her. I could so easily step on it and she would wipe out completely. Isn’t she nervous about that?

It is one of those afternoons that you have to literally fight your way onto the train. The 4 is slow coming into the Wall Street stop and as I wait the crowd of men in suits starts to grow until it finally a big gray mob. It is hot, it is smelly and everyone wants to go home. When the train finally comes it's already packed to the brim like a cattle car but everyone sees the small opportunity for a few people to squeeze in. When the doors creak open the struggle begins, elbows flying and shoulders pushing. Normally I would avoid this mess and just wait for the next train to come; however I had to be somewhere and am running late. I nudge my way on, ribs crushing against the gigantic women in front of me.

The car is so packed that I get off two stops later at Brooklyn Bridge to change to the 6 because of how unbearable it is. As I sprint across the platform into the cool openness that is the 6 train I look back at car of the 4 train I had just left. It is such a squishy mass of bodies that I am very surprised I had come out of there in one piece.