Yes, I admit that what follows is nothing more than a public venting of my frustration with the New York City subway system and has no bearing or connection to art or literature. That being said, I’ll justify writing this post by claiming that my grievance with the MTA is due to the adverse effect it has on my reading. See, one of the advantages of mass transit is that it affords me time to read while I get to wherever I need to go. I once had a month long gig in New Jersey, and in the two hours I spent sitting in relative quiet on a bus in traffic each night, I was reading 500 pages of serious literature each week. This is not the case with the subway.
Due to the constant harassment one must endure, there is only a specific type of book I can read on the train: in addition to being light (no Tolstoy and no anthologies) the ideal subway book must have short chapters, must be about an uncomplicated subject, and must not be written too densely. Post-Modern novels are good—I read Murakami and Pynchon this way—as are short story and essay collections—I’m currently carrying around Orhan Pamuk, which I recently discussed. In other words, you need something that doesn’t require a lot of concentration because the MTA is committed to not allowing more than two peaceful minutes to pass on its subway cars.
Let’s be clear; my complaint is not with the people on the trains. Sure, I’m irritated by the passengers who like to listen to Metal loud enough in their headphones that I can hear them ten feet away, and also the people talking at full volume on their cell phones, and the kid who claims to be selling candy bars to pay for college (I don’t believe that for a second), and the people who play their guitar or dance for tips, and the homeless men begging for money [Addendum: since I heard this story on This American Life I haven’t given anything to people who ask for money for food], but what really bothers me is that the MTA seems to believe they must treat their riders the way an overprotective mother treats her children.
For those readers who’ve never been to New York and do not use public transportation, imagine yourself driving to work tomorrow as you always do, except now every two minutes an authoritative voice interrupts the music from your radio in order to instruct you to please allow vehicles entering the highway to merge, or to always buckle your children into their booster seat, or to make sure you never find yourself stuck idling on railroad tracks. This about is what it’s like to ride the subway.
From the moment I enter the turnstile until the moment I leave I’m warned not to display “cell phones or other personal electronic devices” as though crime is so bad in New York I will have my phone snatched from my hand as soon as it leaves my pocket. I’m warned to face forward on the escalator, I’m warned about reporting suspicious packages, I’m warned that my bag is subject to random search by the police. I’m also told to step away from the platform edge, told to move towards the center of the train, and told to let other passengers out before entering the train, told to be aware of unwanted sexual advances in crowded cars.
Then there are the posters in the stations and in the trains warning me against falling down the stairs, about getting my foot caught in the gap between the platform and the train door, about holding the doors open, about leaning against the doors while the train is in motion, about moving between train cars, about attempting to ride on the outside of the train (that sounds like a joke; it’s not). There’s even a sign warning me not to pull the emergency brake inside the car during a fire, medical, or crime related emergency. Apparently, these brakes exist only for passengers to trigger if someone is caught in the doors and at risk of being dragged by the train, although I don’t see how that is even conceivable since at every station a tone is sounded to warn of closing doors in addition to the warning given over the speaker by the driver.
And the worst part of it all is that these messages are concluded with “Thanks for riding with MTA.” Sure, this seems like an attempt to add a note of politeness to intrusive but necessary announcements, but to me it’s nothing but mockery. See, unless you’re willing to spend $50 a day taking cabs to and from work—and there are a lot of New Yorkers who can and will do just that—the MTA is your only choice. With this in mind, how can their thank you be anything but sardonic? Their announcements might as well conclude with “The MTA apologizes for raising your fairs each year without providing any noticeable improvements to your daily commute. If you’re unsatisfied with our service, perhaps next time you should take the other subway system. Oh wait, that’s right, there isn’t another subway system. You have no choice but to put up with it. That’s too bad for you. Well, thanks anyway.”
Related posts:
