Subway Takes

He swaggered into the subway car, a man of modest height, fair complexion, probably in his late thirties, and sat down opposite me. His demeanor suggested he was quite pleased with himself. Perhaps it was his outfit: a huge dazzling yellow baseball cap, the kind that covers the tops of the ears; a denim jacket, the front emblazoned with a design of large, gold lightening bolts; his sneakers, brilliant yellow like his hat. He was, as they say, “a picture”.

At the next stop a man entered, elegantly dressed in a blazer and slacks. He sat down next to me and comfortably crossed his legs in the somewhat empty car. I did notice his beautiful shoes, but the man across the aisle saw something he liked more.

“Hey”, he called. “I like your socks. Those are great socks!”

Every eye in the car was directed at those socks, and they were beautiful, a handsome geometric pattern, undoubtedly silk, very expensive.

“I’d like to get socks like them”, his admirer continued. “Where’d you get them?”

“Bergdorfs”, was the reply.

“Say what?” came back.

Again, “Bergdorfs”.

“Oh”, with a shrug. “I’ll have to get me some of those”.

Like all true New Yorkers, no one reacted visibly, just eyes down, each busy again with his thoughts, perhaps some with a twinkle in their eyes.

 SUBWAY TALE #2

When the tall, handsome woman limped into the train, I could judge by the lack of body motion that no one was about to relinquish a seat, even though she was leaning        heavily on her cane. So, I did, but as I stood, the man next to me jumped up, motioning for me to sit again, and gallantly offered his place. She thanked him and then thanked          me, giving me a chance to converse with a stranger, always interesting.

I admired her cane, a vivid hot pink acrylic, a gift from her daughters, she said, when she fell while running, that the operation to repair her knee was not as successful as hoped, and since her sick days were exhausted, she was assigned a desk job while she continued to heal. Sitting most of the day did little to help her knee, so she continued with physical therapy and walked when she could, including walking home from the subway station.

Alarm bells rang in my head.

“Does someone meet you at night so you need not walk alone in the dark?, “ I asked. “A woman with a cane can be a perfect target for a mugger”.

She broke into a huge smile, patted my arm as if I were a dimwit, and said, grinning, “Honey, I’m a cop! And my cane can make a perfect weapon.”

What could I say to that?

SUBWAY TALE #3

MYOB

Lunch with the ladies, always a treat. As I entered the subway car on my way into Manhattan, anticipating a lovely day, my mood was very cheerful. Having spied my reflection in the train window, I allowed myself a bit of vanity. Not bad for a woman of a certain age, I thought.

Once seated, I noticed the young woman sitting very close to me, munching on a bag of chips

“I hope that’s not her breakfast choice”, I mentally remarked, and then watched with surprise as she crumpled the bag and surreptitiously slid it through her legs to the floor. Will I never learn?

“Young lady”, I said quietly. “You dropped your chip bag.”

Looking down at her feet and then back at me, she blatantly lied, “That’s not mine.”

“But I saw you drop it”, I replied, foolishly.

With a raised, indignant voice, she again denied the bag and told me to “mind my own damn business!”

Necks were craning, ears alert, the subway’s entertainment du jour was underway.

Disregarding the obvious warning signals, ever the “teacher”, I was determined and spoke.

“Everyone is encouraged not to litter. Surely your mother taught you that.”

She exploded! “Don’t you talk about my mother, you old bag. Just shut your big, damn mouth”, expletives deleted.

At that point I wished for a way to disappear, any way to end this error of mine. All of a sudden, in front of me and facing the young, angry woman was a big, burly, handsome man who spoke forcefully to her.

“Don’t you speak to this woman like that. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

My hero; I was rescued. Could anyone wish for a better Sir Galahad? The young woman bolted from her seat and rapidly exited the car. I, red with embarrassment, offered my thanks to the man , only to hear this reply.

“She should never have spoken to you like that. We need to respect old people”

Ah, yes, a little humble pie for dessert before lunch.