The Commute

A lot of people in this world are familiar with the phenomenon of commuting. Hundreds of thousands of people live and dwell a journey's distance away from their places of work and business. The phenomenon occurs on every level, but is more prevalent in societies revolving around major cities.

Hundreds of thousands of people, millions even, pack into different modes of transportation in order to get to work everyday. And most of these people work in what are known as typical hours of business, i.e. 9:00am-5:00pm. These hours are stretched and shortened in different places of business, but more or less represent the gamut of working class society.

In major metropolitan areas, such as New York, millions of people live outside the confines of the municipal outlines of the city, and commute to work into the city. These people live on the outskirts or in the suburbs. And because of where they live and where they work, they are required to perform a daily ritual that can only be described as commuting.

In New York, as in every part of the world, commuting takes many forms. There are people who walk, bike, and drive to work on their own terms. Then there are people who carpool, or ride mass transit, e.g. the bus, train, or the subway.
I am a contributor to mass transit. When I used to live in New Jersey, I used to ride the bus everyday to get to New York City, however, now that I live in Brooklyn, which is on the opposite of Manhattan island and part of New York State and City, I am privileged to be able to ride the New York City Subway...everyday.

An approximation of 8 million people live within the city limits of New York City, and a further approximation of 8 million more commute everyday from New Jersey, upstate New York, Connecticut, and Long Island. That makes a total of approximately 16 million people competing within the city limits on any given work day, give or take a couple million (while these figures are approximate, I did learn about them from a documentary or a book or an article, and, I swear, I did not make them up).

My rush-hour journey begins at approximately 8:00 in the morning, when I typically board the (4) or (5) Subway train along the Eastern Parkway/Lexington Avenue line bound for Manhattan, ending up at Grand Central Terminal, the commuting hub of hundreds of train lines, and, in itself, an icon of New York City Transit.

Usually there are no seats on the train (this particular Subway line is notoriously popular and overcrowded), and so I usually try to obtain a spot on the train where I can stand clear of incoming and outgoing passengers, away from solicitation, in relative isolation where I can read or listen to music without threatening to bother anybody. If possible, I always try to go to one of the against-the-door spots, which are clearly marked by the "Do Not Lean Against the Doors" signs. Everybody does lean on them though, because they are proven safe and because it is a great spot on the train to stand if you can't sit.

On my trip in the morning, the train doors open on only one side the entire ride, except for one stop, so if I can get set up against one of the doors on the opposite side, I've got it made in the shade.

The benches are all attached to the outside walls of the inside of the Subway car, and are affixed and reinforced with poles that stretch up to the ceiling. Then there are a few more poles, railings, and other hand bars located strategically throughout the train, placed in order to mathematically maximize the number of passengers in accordance with the amount of physical space the car offers.

If a rider cannot obtain a seat or a position on the outside of the Subway car, either in a seat or against a door, he or she must float around the middle of the car, making their journey a little more difficult. If a person cannot get a position with their backs to the wall, it usually requires them to face the people that have their backs to the wall, and in these close quarters, can make for awkward interactions. A person in the middle of the car, either hovering around the center poles, clinging to the rails running along the ceiling, or in one of those phantom spots in between one of the other more established spots, is almost guaranteed to have to shift his or her position during the course or the ride, in order to let people through.

If required to shift, though, many times it is possible to move ahead in your position in the car. If somebody leaves the door spot and I am in the middle of the car somewhere, I always dart for the door spot to try and get it before someone else can. I almost never sit. First of all, there are usually never any seats, but if there are and I take one of them, it only takes about five seconds before someone new comes on the train and I would feel guilty sitting as they were standing. Obviously, women and the elderly get precedence over me, it goes without saying.

So, I am usually standing for the 30-40 minute train ride to Midtown Manhattan. It is a good way to get a lot of thinking done. It is a good place to work on reading a novel. And it is a terrific place to see how people (strangers) interact with one another. One of the cardinal rules, however, is to not look people in the eyes; that would just make them uncomfortable, even though all any of us want to do is just look at everybody. You have to try to look at people when they are not looking in your direction, which can be difficult at times, considering how close we all are to one another, but it is possible.

You get a good look at people, let me tell you. A wiser man than myself once said, "People are strange, when you're a stranger..." This is true. Everybody on the train is trying to be an individual. Each person is on his or her own personal journey, usually traveling by him or herself, in order to get to a destination where they will once again be regrouped with people they know. But until then, they're on their own, which leads to some pretty funny stuff.

It's funny how some people will refuse to communicate with a stranger. They will come to a decision in their minds that it will be better to inconvenience a person and completely invade their personal space than to ask them to move or pardon themselves.

The people with headphones have an understanding that as long as they hear nothing but music, it doesn’t matter where they are or who they are next to. They will push, shove, or ignore to their heart’s delight, as long as those sweet tunes keep playing in their ears. And if you think their music is too loud and you’d like them to turn it down, forget it, because that’s when they’ll start singing or rapping along, loud enough so that everyone can hear.

This brings up an interesting debate, and I often wonder which is ruder: to be inconveniencing a crowd of people by having your music too loud, or to be that one person who breaks the silence of the crowd and asks them to turn it down. Which is more of a social faux pas?

At any rate, I’ve never seen anyone challenge the over-exuberant music listener yet, and I fear it might be up to me.

One thing is for sure, about riding the Subway, though, the crazies do come out. And not only at night. Though nighttime is more likely you’ll find somebody who is obviously out of his/her mind, it’s hard to go more than a few Subway rides without encountering somebody who is either preaching, asking for money, or just acting completely absurd.

The other morning, on the way to work, this woman got on a crowded subway car and started berating the man standing next to me for no apparent reason. She started by commenting how beautiful a day it was, and then went on to disgrace actors, and then concluded by telling the guy how ugly his mother was.

Fortunately, she got off at the next stop. And that is when the preacher at the other end of the car started his spiel.

It is never a dull moment on the Subway.

The morning commute is most enjoyed when the car is packed so full that we are all standing unreasonably close to someone we’ve never met or even enjoyed a meal with. It requires you to nudge people, to slide your hands and arms up and down in a purely vertical fashion so as not to abruptly touch someone’s thigh or butt or hip or face, while you reach for the handle bar.

Even though it is that close physical contact with new people that we’ve all been missing so much, it is unfortunately inappropriate to grope your fellow commuter on the way to and from work. There are simply too many people around. But the swaying motion of the moving train cars doesn’t help much.

If you don’t happen to have a seat or a spot where you can lean against something, standing so close to all these other people makes it so that you have to stand at a certain angle the whole time, forcing your body into an uncomfortable position that only a gymnast might know about, in order to avoid touching somebody or completely falling over.

If this is the case, you can get quite a workout contracting and releasing your arms and abs and glutes trying to stay rigid.

No matter how I stand, be it leaning against the door or contorted in some strange way, parts of my body will undoubtedly fall asleep before too long, and I will have to find a way to change positions. Shifting is not something that is easily done when packed into a moving train. My legs usually go one stop before I have to get off, about thirty minutes into the ride.

It’s not uncommon to see me shaking a whole lot upon exiting the train.

But, alas, I have made it to my destination, safe and sound, and on time. It can be a pain in the rear sometimes, but riding the Subway for me is a joyful occasion. I enjoy it thoroughly, and I can’t think of a better way to get to work.