Subway Snippets

The New York City subway has long been regarded as the great equalizer. Board the L train, for example, on any given weekday, and you're likely to share a car with Hasidic men sporting curls, black hats, and dark wool suits; Hispanic schoolgirls in skintight acid-wash jeans, metallic lip gloss, and high-top sneakers, smacking their gum and chattering in Spanglish; hipsters in low-slung Imitation jeans, flip flops, and CBGB tank tops grooving to their iPods; Polish women in thick-heeled pumps, polyester pants, and painted lips; and a handful of English-speaking commuters like me, in skirts and slingbacks or suits and ties, carrying a bag or briefcase and copies of the New York Times, the New Yorker or, occasionally, The Economist.
But on Tuesday, I shared the morning commute with a whole new category of rider (at least to me): the butt grabber. It was a first in my 5+ years of regular subway commutes. And initially I thought I must be imagining it. The morning trains are packed so tightly that you often end up pressed against total strangers. But when I glanced over my shoulder, this man grinned at me and on his way out at the next stop, tried to do it again! This time, I moved a little quicker. Still, I was in such shock I didn't even say anything. Though, of course, I ran through various alternative scenarios in my head for the rest of the day.
Other subway experiences are more benign, but still memorable. Last week, I shared an A train car with four well-behaved seeing eye dogs in training (two German shephards and two Golden retrievers) and their trainers, and about 20 kindergarten students on a field trip. You can only imagine the amount of love in that car. The dogs lapping up the kids' attention, the kids cooing over the dogs. The adults smiling at the interaction between the two.
The next night, Victor and I were alone in a car with two well-dressed guys, one of whom started belting out the title song from "The Neverending Story" at the top of his lungs, as his boyfriend harmonized. I might have said something, but he was a pretty decent singer. And he was having such a good time it was hard not to smile. (I might have even sung along if I could remember more of the song).