You Could be Food or Hero, I’ll pick.
The train halted. I mind laughed at the people who almost made Santas out of the patrons sitting in the subway car. But my laugh was short lived. We were stalled. It was fine at first, I had my coffee and a spot at the door so I could lean even though it clearly states “DO NOT LEAN ON DOORS”. The a/c blew its cool breeze in my face.
I had the added blessing of a dead Zune. (Yeah, I listen to a Zune. It’s about to be extinct which makes me hip. so.)
S’okay, I don’t mind as we’re just stuck in a little traffic right? The a/c cuts out. It’s ridiculously quiet.
I’ve always thought it strange whenever a subway car stalled, the silence that follows has me preparing a list of who will be food and who will be our heroes in the weeks we’re stuck down in the Mole People territory.
My coffee has gone luke warm and leaves a strange film in my mouth, I’m convinced this means I can taste the fear of New Yorkians Executive. Their pulses hype as thoughts of standing still doing nothing eats at their Type A soul. But alas, they remember their iPads after the initial panic vaporizes.
The intercom coughs to life with static informing us of something we can’t make out and I almost tell the car I speak Subway Conductor, but didn’t think they would want levity at this time. “We will be moving shortly.” I’ve learned they can legally say that for an hour without being called liars, so this gives me no hope. It’s getting hot. Lip sweat is happening.
A door opens behind me, it’s the car in front of us gasping for air, the ladies in their winter coats smiling trying to make light of this dyer situation. I then realize I have the power of these peoples comfort at my palms grasp, a simple yank and we can all breathe cool air. I decide immediately that I will not open that door. I will make a New Yorker politely ask the All Powerful Temperature Control Lady. (Bit of foreshadowing? Nobody ever asked.)
Aaaaand the car starts, I stop planning the menu of people and smile. The morning is finally feeling righ—- The train stops like it got slapped in the face. People go flying once more, it’s just as hilarious. The a/c cutting out again is not.
I commence planning our chain of command. The menu for week one is sitting conveniently together on the bench to my right I’ve decided. After more horribly quiet train car time we see the conductor walking by our car, he seems like a ghost in the reflection of the darkened windows. A thumping sounds off and a strange cry from the tunnel has me convinced a dinosaur has escaped but then I remind myself we’re not in Jurassic Park, we’re in Pelham 123.
Eventually they fix the problem, a signal issue causing the E-Brake to go haywire.
I watch everyone relax, the food going back to reading their papers (completely unsuspecting). The chain of command looked less regal in the light of a subway station, but heroes are always lackluster until their moment of truth.
What category am I, you ask after 555 words of blog entry? I’m the smart ass bitch that secretly sneaks out when everyone is in a panic, I’ll walk the tunnel to the next station. They won’t remember my existence on the train that day, which is why they won’t question the strange note calling out Food and Heroes. They will only obey.