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Subway Trips Vol. 2

June 21st, 2023


Friday

I think Olivia and I made it about 6 avenues from where we had lunch before we realized that the Met was actually way uptown. I’d never been and Olivia had a very specific route she took every time she went so I figured that she was probably the best person to go with. It was midday, so the 6 was packed to the brim, including a man who was with his bicycle. I don’t really exercise and I certainly don’t own a bike, but I could tell that there was something exhausting this guy beyond his cycling. I think he was French or something? He had an accent. Looked about mid-20s. For some reason, he kept turning around and saying “It wasn’t me.” This was especially strange considering he wasn’t facing anyone when he said that. I thought he was on the phone or something, but he didn’t have his headphones in or anything. Then he yelled “I’M SORRY!” just as Olivia and I made our stop and we quickly exited the vehicle.


Monday

I don’t think I really have a routine down for my groceries. I don’t like to comparison shop or go to many grocery stores in a row. I just want to get it all out of the way and done with. There’s a Target on 70th that used to be right on my way home from work that has better prices than anywhere in the East Village (8 dollars for 3 pounds of chicken nuggets? Come on.) that I occasionally make bulk trips to. I’ll bring a backpack, it’s a whole deal. I wanted to get to it today, but I’ve been procrastinating by doing other bullshit instead. At about 5 pm I finally made my way to the subway and waited about 5 minutes for the 6. In those 5 minutes, I noticed a crowd of people around one corner. I was curious and found one of the greatest fights I’ve ever seen. Two men, one with a hockey stick. Why a hockey stick? What could have been done in this altercation to 1. put a hockey stick in this man’s hand and 2. aggravate said man to the point of using it as a weapon? The man used it like it was a goddamn katana. I showed up toward the end of the fight and observed 3 skinny white guys who looked exactly the same all on the phone with the police. NYPD showed up and one of them met a swift blow from Hockey Stick-Man almost immediately. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that in my entire life. The train arrived and I got on.


Tuesday

My friends have all agreed that I’m pretty much an old man already. I do crossword puzzles, wear sweaters, and, when the seasons of the year change, my leg gets a bit stiff. Maybe that’s something I ought to have checked, but, then again, I’m lazy.

This year has been an especially trying time for my attendance. When I really think about it, I haven’t actually missed that much class. It’s just that, in college, attendance seems to matter a whole lot more. I’m allowed one absence before this shit starts to affect my grade. Of course, within the first week of school, I found myself with a 100° fever. That meant my days of snoozing my alarm were over and a conscious effort was made to get to school early. That also meant that this morning I found myself falling asleep on the 20-minute subway ride, which left my phone susceptible to some punk kid (no older than 14) grabbing it and running. I noticed it immediately and ran after the guy. I called out, trying to get someone else to stop him and eventually some guy grabbed a hold of him. I took the phone back, realized I was gonna be late for class, and let the kid go to make it as quick as possible.

I got to class about 15 minutes late and man, did my leg hurt.


Thursday

Maybe I’ve been complaining too much. Today was a weird one. Matt and I had rushed past this well-dressed girl who shat herself and ignored her so we could make his train home. I was pretty bummed that we missed the opportunity to comment on the issue, but at least we got him to his train on time (with literally one minute to spare). Soon after, I was confronted with the fact that I really don’t have much left to do here before I leave for Hong Kong. My friends are mostly gone, I’m out of a job, and I don’t really have enough time to start another big project. But on the train home, I was greeted by this guy playing his guitar for money. Normally I’m annoyed by those types of guys but the tune that he serenaded hit me just right. It was a soft acoustic rendition of Roberto Carlos’s “Amigo” that I haven’t been able to find anywhere else. One of thousands of subterranean performances I have and will continue to hear in my time here. This one was pretty beautiful. I gave him ten dollars.


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