Message in a Can

Unlike subways in other parts of the world, New York's subway has awful sound systems. Most announcements are garbled and unintelligible.

On the way home from the Metropolitan Museum of Art today the E train was held at the 50th Street station. The announcement that came through the sound system speaker was a jumble of static save a single word: patience.

For once, I appreciated the notoriously crappy public address system. This message said it all and did so simply.

The Uncanny Voice of Conscience

Tonight I got on the E train at 42nd and immediately sat down to read through my Playbill.

At the next stop I heard a voice chastise someone for putting their feet on the train seat. There are many times on the subway when I see people do things they shouldn't, such as litter or spill food on the floor. I want to say something but don't because I don't want to risk engaging some unstable person in a conversation or shouting match.

I looked up to inspect the good Samaritan.

He was a homeless man sitting in a corner of the car behind a supermarket cart stacked 5 feet high with aluminum cans. Not only does he enforce the subway rules, he is keeping the city streets clean and recycling.

At 23rd street the offending passenger must have exited the train. The homeless man was waving his hand and saying loudly "Good riddance. You're not wanted here."

As I stepped out, I wondered how many people on the train were silently sharing his sentiment. So often I have wanted to say similar words when rude riders exited a car.

This fellow and I haven't talked and we lead very different lives, yet in the span of this brief ride I learned that we have common values and that I admire things about this stranger.

Good Attitude

Tonight a man sitting on my subway train was wearing several buttons on his jacket. This one caught my eye: I heart being black.

Fabulous

Today I took the 6 train to meet a friend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The trains were packed and there was a crush of people trying to get on the stairs to exit the station at 86th Street.

A young Latino man was directly behind me talking on his cell phone. I heard him say "There is this lady in front of me wearing a fabulous fur hat." Then this dude in baggy jeans, gold chains, and reverse baseball cap continued to make plans to meet his friends at the sporting gear store.

This is about the third time this week I've heard a straight man use the F word. When did they claim the term fabulous?

The Bad Example

Sometimes I'm glad when someone else does the thing I sort of contemplated doing, and shows me how bad it would have been to have done it myself.

I was almost finished with my long trip to the Bronx on the 1 line, when a new person entered the other end of the car and started playing loud music.

It is legal to play music on the subway, as long as headphones are used.

At first, I was annoyed and felt like saying something. But a moment later, a man started singing to the music.

In an instant, I changed from hating the music to loving it.

As the train approached my stop, the performer was before me collecting change. He was wearing a traditional South American outfit and carting some kind of sound system on a hand truck.

An irate passenger walked up to the performer and told him that he should not be playing loud music on the subway. The performer didn't understand. He started speaking to another passenger in Spanish. The other passenger explained that the man didn't know English.

The irate passenger got more angry. He complained that the music was a violation of his privacy and against the law.

The other passengers looked annoyed and rolled their eyes at each other. The performer was apprehensive. The Spanish-speaking passenger explained that this was the way the man made money. It only bothered passengers for a few moments, and many of them enjoyed the music. He made a big show of defiantly placing a bill in the performer's hand. He was clearly angry with the irate passenger, who was shouting that playing music on the subway was illegal.

The doors opened, and the irate passenger got out. I was walking behind him and hoping no one thought we were related in any way. He was still fuming and I was still wondering why someone would get so angry about a performance that lasted less than two minutes.

Galloping Consumption

As I walked down the 2nd Avenue platform of the F train, I noticed a man moving in my direction who was asking people for change. He looked down on his luck.

He moved near me. I didn't have any change and didn't want to encourage him by making eye contact.

I got the urge to cough and did so.

"You better check out that cough." he said as he sped past me "It could be T.B."

An Open Countenance

Now that it is very cold in New York, I take the subway rather than walk the 10 blocks from work to my dance class.

When passengers pry doors open to get on board the subway, the conductor hits the door open or close control button to get people in the car or to shut them out so the train can move. When that button is pushed, all of the doors on the platform side of the train open and close simultaneously.

During rush hour, the doors often open and close many times before we roll out of the station. Usually, they open and close quickly to allow a stuck backpack to get pulled in (nice) or to shut on a hand holding the door so it will let go (harsh).

For the passenger hoping to get in, it can be like a jump rope game. As the jumpers watch the moving rope for the perfect window to jump in, the would-be passenger watches door openings carefully to hop in at the right moment when the doors widen just enough to get the whole body through.

Tonight I sat across from the door and saw a pretty woman in a red coat hop on right before we took off. She was holding several red Macy's shopping bags. A big smile was on her face, which could have been attributed to getting on the train successfully or getting her shopping done.

Her beaming face made me smile. I usually don't smile at strangers. Her happiness was extraordinarily contagious.

She looked at my smiling face and sat down next to me. After checking her bags and arranging them on the floor she turned to me and said "Do you shop at Macy's?"

I told her I did. She told me there was a friends and family sale, and began looking for a special coupon in a wallet bulging with receipts and papers.

I thanked her, and explained that I had already done my holiday shopping. It was very unlikely that I would buy anything at Macy's before the coupon expired. I encouraged her to hold on to her special coupon and give it to someone who would use it.

All of this took place in a ride between 34th and 42nd street stations. It probably took less than three minutes. In the short span of a single stop subway ride, I developed a strong sense of goodwill toward this woman I barely met. I don't think I am a particularly friendly person in general, yet she wanted to reward me with her special perk because I had appeared friendly to her.

New Yorkers are often characterized as cold and uncaring. People outside of the city tend to think New Yorkers don't know their neighbors or talk to one another. Yet, I grew up in the suburbs and can't recall ever interacting with someone in the friendly, easy manner that happened tonight. People in the suburbs usually do not have an opportunity to even sit next to a stranger.

This brief subway experience illuminated several things I already know but seem to ignore. When people see a happy person, the happiness spreads. I should make an effort to be friendlier because it encourages pleasant interactions. There is goodwill in the world, but it requires a modest trigger. Part of having the good in people affirmed involves some vulnerability on my part.

Not smiling at strangers prevents any interaction: negative or positive. To see the good side of people, I have to make myself vulnerable to the bad side too.