Subway
Katie and I were riding back to Manhattan from a party in Brooklyn on the L train. We had gotten on the train at the Morgan stop and were going to get out at 6th Avenue, so we had a 20 minute ride ahead of us. I shut my eyes and leaned my head back, in drunken tiredness. Katie nudged me and whispered excitedly, "Look, look!"
In the space in between the cars there was a man looking in, watching the passengers.
"Have you ever seen anything like that? What is he doing?" Katie whispered, looking around to see if anyone else in the train noticed the mysterious figure.
I shrugged, shut my eyes again and said "Maybe he's riding up top the train, you know? Or in between the cars? I guess people do that. I've heard of them doing it."
"Oh my God. He just disappeared. He was looking in at us and then he disappeared as if there was another room right next to him to exit into. What was that?" At this point Katie's mind was spinning with what would happen next: he would fall underneath the train and we would run over him; he was planting a bomb; he was living in the subway tunnels and waiting to get out at his home. She kept all of these thoughts to herself, but I could feel them bubbling beneath her eager voice.
With this mysterious subway man, riding between the cars, there must be a story, an incident, a hidden world.
"Weird," I mumbled. We were silent for the next few stops as I was drifting in and out of consciousness, rocking with the familiar movements of the train, not listening to anything as the ambient humming noise of the train wheels against the track lulled into me sleep. The last thing I heard before falling completely asleep was Katie saying "Like, did he just step into another dimension?"
The train stopped at 14th street with a jolt. I looked up. The mysterious man was back, but now he was stepping inside our train car. I glanced at Katie, who was already watching.
As he opened the door to our train car, we saw his orange gloves, his dirty navy jumpsuit, his protective glasses. He was an MTA employee.
When he stepped into our car, we caught a glance of that space between the cars where he had been dwelling, where he had been magically appearing and disappearing from. It was a small room, with a floor, lights and other doors. A place for train technicians I'd assume, yet it is an addition to the newer train cars that we were unfamiliar with.
"Damnit," she said. We both started chuckling. It's funny how imagination has the ability to obscure the obvious. Yet, how much more vibrant the world looks through imaginative eyes.
In the space in between the cars there was a man looking in, watching the passengers.
"Have you ever seen anything like that? What is he doing?" Katie whispered, looking around to see if anyone else in the train noticed the mysterious figure.
I shrugged, shut my eyes again and said "Maybe he's riding up top the train, you know? Or in between the cars? I guess people do that. I've heard of them doing it."
"Oh my God. He just disappeared. He was looking in at us and then he disappeared as if there was another room right next to him to exit into. What was that?" At this point Katie's mind was spinning with what would happen next: he would fall underneath the train and we would run over him; he was planting a bomb; he was living in the subway tunnels and waiting to get out at his home. She kept all of these thoughts to herself, but I could feel them bubbling beneath her eager voice.
With this mysterious subway man, riding between the cars, there must be a story, an incident, a hidden world.
"Weird," I mumbled. We were silent for the next few stops as I was drifting in and out of consciousness, rocking with the familiar movements of the train, not listening to anything as the ambient humming noise of the train wheels against the track lulled into me sleep. The last thing I heard before falling completely asleep was Katie saying "Like, did he just step into another dimension?"
The train stopped at 14th street with a jolt. I looked up. The mysterious man was back, but now he was stepping inside our train car. I glanced at Katie, who was already watching.
As he opened the door to our train car, we saw his orange gloves, his dirty navy jumpsuit, his protective glasses. He was an MTA employee.
When he stepped into our car, we caught a glance of that space between the cars where he had been dwelling, where he had been magically appearing and disappearing from. It was a small room, with a floor, lights and other doors. A place for train technicians I'd assume, yet it is an addition to the newer train cars that we were unfamiliar with.
"Damnit," she said. We both started chuckling. It's funny how imagination has the ability to obscure the obvious. Yet, how much more vibrant the world looks through imaginative eyes.
posted by Sophia at 4:39 PM
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