by Subways in NYC are special. Having ridden on them for years when I was a commuter, I saw a lot of shit, and literal shit too. Almost any day, you can be practically guaranteed to see something out of the ordinary.
The noise, the people, the rush hours where the characters of a breathing city from all walks of life squish together and rush to work and school or the thousands of other places scattered throughout the city, all connected through the most sophisticated subway system in the world. For having such a reputation, it sure is covered in a lot of shit. But I guess that’s what gives it its charm too.
I’ve been commuting less on the train in the past year, ever since I got a car and a job in my neighborhood, in Riverdale, The Bronx. But here and there, I still hop on when I need to make my way into the city. There are a few other alternatives for me to get downtown, but catching the 1 train is always entertaining, and it’s the most affordable and efficient unless there is a delay or the track is under maintenance or some other bullshit.
I’ve always wanted to document or film some of the shit that goes on down there. Having ridden the train to Penn Station today, some of those old memories came back, especially when I saw a crackhead being escorted out of the station by four police officers for not paying or something, and he kept spitting at them from a distance and yelling “You pussy ass Rats. Telling me I ain’t got no money. Pussy Rats!” That’s pretty normal though.
Some old interesting memories came to mind, and I want to document them here below, so I don’t forget them, and so some of them stay as a time stamp of the experiences of a New York City commuter in the 21st century.
The Subway Stroker
A couple of years ago as I was riding back home from my internship in Hoboken, New Jersey, I was getting off at 14th Street to transfer to the 1 train, and as I turned the corner to go up the stairs and exit the station, I saw this man in a hoodie facing the wall and just stroking his shit. I couldn’t believe it. I remember I couldn’t contain myself and I just blurted out, “What the fuck.” In that exact moment, the man seemed to have reached his climax, and a bunch of white goo started drizzling all over his black shoes, thick like sunscreen lotion.
Everybody kept walking by, some people glanced, some didn’t even notice. Maybe they were terrified. I just stood there for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. Seeing somebody stroke their shit like that in public in a busy train station was a first for me. I looked around, and there were no officers around. The 1 train was arriving soon. I had a long day, and my commute to my internship was about an hour and 30 minutes, on a good day, when everything flowed smoothly.
A part of me wanted to confront the man and say, “What the fuck are you doing? Are you out of your fucking mind?” And maybe knock him out and wait for help to arrive. He was a big man, with a big bookbag and a black hoodie. This man clearly had no sense of right and wrong, and stroking his shit violently like that in public gives a pretty strong inclination that this man is a very disturbed individual, and clearly has no sense of reality.
I was hoping that when I exited the station, I would at least run into some officers or see some uniform and tell them that they need to catch this wild animal. But nobody. The 1 train was five minutes away, who knows when the next one would come. I could be standing there for another twenty minutes if I didn’t make it. I just wanted to get home. It was a long day.
I do regret a little that I didn’t go out of my way to get this man arrested. I hope this guy eventually got caught doing something and is no longer walking around in public and is as far away as possible from women, children, and hell, even men.
Red Tracks
This happened a few years ago when I was on my way to the Tribeca Film Festival to see a panel with Robert Deniro and Martin Scorsese, and right after that was a screening of the 40th anniversary of Apocalypse Now, followed by another panel with Francis Ford Coppola. Being a huge movie buff, I couldn’t wait to see my heroes up there on the stage and watch their movie, and hear their wisdom. I even left my house much earlier than I needed to, so no matter what bullshit and possible delays the MTA would throw at me, I would still get there in one piece, or so I thought.
The event was at Beacon Theater on West 74th Street, and most of my ride went smoothly until the train just suddenly slowed down and stopped in the middle of a tunnel between 103rd Street and 96th Street. At first, I didn’t think too much of it, but the train just kept standing there, and standing, and standing. No update or anything in sight. “Please hang on as we’re being held due to an emergency. We’ll be moving shortly.” I started fuming inside.
Of course something was gonna happen—why wouldn’t it? Almost always something does. The track caught on fire, the tracks are under maintenance, a crazy guy is walking on them, and whatever else the subway gods decide to stir up. We might have been waiting there close to 30 minutes, and I really started to wonder if I was ever gonna make it to Beacon Theater.
Then rumors started to spread on the train that somebody had killed themselves by jumping under a moving train a few stations down. I started thinking about how long it would take the squad of cleanup professionals to get on the tracks, bring their equipment, assess the situation, and then get to cleaning and washing and bagging and mopping. What a crazy job that must be. You get called in with your squad on any given day to clean up such a mess.
Poor guy, but come on, why would you end your life in such gruesome fashion and inconvenience thousands of people who have shit to do? This guy really ended his life in the most horrific and petty way possible. I’m not gonna lie, in that moment, without even knowing him, I was pretty pissed off at him.
After what felt like forever, the train slowly pulled up at 96th Street, and we were told to exit the station. I had like 10 minutes left before the event started. There was no other train to board, and there was no time for a walk. I tried to catch a taxi outside the station, but there were so many people standing on the sidewalk and hunting down yellow cabs that I knew there was no chance I would catch one. So I started running. I ran to about 92nd Street and hunted down a cab. I jumped in and said Take me down to the Beacon Theater.
The driver dropped me off at the front entrance. The panel was starting at like 5 pm, and I got there five minutes late. Good thing they gave some leeway time, and I had enough time to get in, take a leak, and find my seat. In the end, the entire evening was informative, fun, and inspiring.
My commute home was a lot smoother.
The Rubik’s Cube Guy
One morning, I was commuting with my friend to school, and pretty much everyone was sitting, including us, except one man, who was walking around with a Rubik’s Cube. He would twist it around while talking to himself and suddenly stop and wave it in front of a random passenger like, “Look how intelligent I am. Look what I’ve solved and accomplished.” He didn’t solve shit. I don’t know what he saw, but we all saw that he didn’t solve shit.
Then he started saying some wild stuff, still pacing around, twisting the Rubik’s Cube in his hands. He already had an aggressive demeanor, but now his voice was getting louder. He began talking about killing women, saying how he was going to “push these dumb bitches onto the train tracks,” all while spinning the cube. It gave me a comic book villain vibe—some nerd with glasses who fiddles with a Rubik’s Cube while plotting his mastermind plan to take over the world.
The atmosphere on the train got very tense; most of the women sat in silence, looking down at the floor, trying not to make eye contact with him unless he put the cube in their faces, probably trying to assert dominance by displaying his intellect. The only thing that he displayed to us was that he is a nut job. It was around 8 am, and it was too early for this shit. But the subway crazies live on their own time and in their own dimension.
Most of us hopped out of the 1 train on 96th Street and transferred to the express 2/3 train on the same platform; it’s a faster way of skipping a lot of stops if you’re going pretty deep downtown. As the 1 train’s doors closed, my friend ran up to right where the Cube Guy was standing and knocked on the window. The Cube Guy turned around, and my friend flashed a middle finger right in front of his face through the glass. His expression turned to rage, and he started banging on the window as his train slowly rolled away and disappeared into the tunnel.
I wonder if he ever got around to actually solving that Rubik’s Cube.
Jumping Man
One morning, commuting to my university on the express 2 train, I was sitting down, reviewing my notes and getting my last bit of studying done for my midterm exam during the early morning rush hour commute. That’s something I’ve always done. The 40-minute to 1-hour commute allowed me to finish studying and review the study guide before hopping off the train and jumping straight into the exam across the Street.
An average MTA train has about 10 cars, and of course, this crazy guy had to get on mine and make a whole show. He was pacing back and forth and asking passengers for money, and then suddenly he just stood and said, loud and clear, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to kill myself.” I will never forget the way he said it. Then he turned around and opened the inter-car door and climbed into the middle passageway. The door was still bouncing back and forth, like it usually does when someone opens it, and with each bounce, fear went over me as I saw him climbing up on the side.
We were going through a very tight tunnel, and I just started to think what would happen to him if he jumped off right now. I imagined that he would get decapitated and his head would roll through that bouncing door. Holly shit man, it was like 9 am and I was not ready to witness a very gruesome death on my way to my midterm exam.
If anything, it could’ve been a good excuse to skip the exam and study a few more days. But I’ve long since graduated, and no amount of extra studying would’ve been worth witnessing such a horrific sight that would probably be wedged into my mind for the rest of my life.
Fortunately, a man sitting closest to the mid passage door stood up, opened the door, and pulled the homeless man inside. He spoke to him outside for a moment, then brought him back in and said that he can’t be doing crazy shit like this anymore. The crazy man got off at the next stop and went about his business. I was very relieved and got back to my study notes.
Later that day after I finished the exam and was chilling with my buddies, I told that story to them, and one of them said, “I think I saw the same guy about a week ago doing the same exact same shit. I think he does it for money.” This man really looked like he was planning to jump off. I thought that if that man hadn’t pulled him down, I don’t know what would have happened.
A few months later, I was commuting back from school. Just another homeless guy got on the train and started asking people for money, and I paid no mind to it. Then the man said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to kill myself.” I suddenly looked up and remembered that voice and sentence. The homeless man proceeded to do the same thing he did last time, opening the inter-car door and going out to the mid passage way and climbing up. I just kept looking. Nobody really seemed to pay any mind. Maybe they have all seen his act already, so nobody really gave a shit.
Eventually, he came back down, got inside, asked for money again, which nobody gave, and then just casually got off at the next stop and went about his day. I think it was time for him to come up with a new act.
Big Ass Subway Rats
It’s no secret and pretty much everyone is well aware of the creatures that dwell in the subway undergrounds and the tunnels, and I’m not talking about the people; I’m talking about the rats. The subway system is their kingdom, and we are just passing by.
On any given day, when taking the MTA train, you are almost guaranteed to see these mutated radioactive NYC rats roaming about. They are most visible and present at night, from what I have witnessed, but even during the most crowded times, you can see them scurrying alongside the passengers, and maybe even under your feet.
They don’t care. There are a bunch of videos that went viral online, and you can see these rats dragging a pizza, climbing on sleeping passengers and homeless people, and sometimes one enters the train car and turns aggressive and violent and tries to jump on everyone. Even the rats can’t deal with the delays.
I always wanted to make a grindhouse-style horror flick about these rats growing bigger and turning more violent against the commuters. It would be a crazy ass movie. Maybe I’ll write a short story about it sometime.
Throughout my years living and commuting in NYC, I must have seen thousands and thousands of rats. You never really get used to them, just always trying to keep your distance because you never know how one might react. They are just as unpredictable as the city they inhabit.
One day, while commuting to college, I saw my old boxing coach, Dennis. It’s been a year or so since I’ve seen him, and when I spotted him getting on the train, I got up right away and said, “Dennis!” “Floyd!” he replied, and we hugged it out in the middle of the cart.
Dennis is a good man and one of the best coaches and mentors I’ve ever had. He was one of the brightest things for me, especially during my turbulent and adventurous teenage years. It’s a shame I haven’t reached out to him in a while and checked in; I feel terrible about it sometimes, but we shared some great moments.
So we got to talking on the train and catching up with each other and what we have been up to. Eventually he hopped off at my stop and we talked a little longer on the platform before Dennis transferred trains. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, he shouted, “Oh my god, Floyd!”
Dennis, a five-time Golden Gloves champion and ex-professional boxer, has seen some tough motherfuckers in his time — but I’ve never seen him that shaken up in all the years I’ve known him. He was looking down, and I looked down as well, and what I saw was a fat, greasy rat with a long tail lying on top of my shoe, just chilling there.
We were talking for like 10 minutes on that platform, and I have no idea when that rat snuck up on me and cuddled up on my foot like that. I instantly yanked my leg away and backed up, and the rat scurried away. That shit sent shivers down my spine. I’ve seen thousands of rats on the subways before, but I’ve never seen one so friendly.
I don’t even want to talk about those little bastards anymore. And like an hour ago I saw a mouse in my kitchen for the first time. Hopefully it doesn’t cuddle up on my foot when I go to bed soon.
Subway Junkies
Drugs certainly fuel the craziness that goes on underground. You can see some lost souls under the influence of the worst of the worst drugs that are currently on the market. If they already have a mental illness, the addition of these extreme chemicals turns a person into something inhuman.
They have their own system and society underground, they ride up and down the five boroughs day and night, and sleep and shit and even have little get-togethers. I’ve seen them casually shoot up and nod off on many occasions. One time, somebody was shooting up sitting across from me and nodded off with a baggie in his hand. Two junkies spotted him, took the baggie from his hands, and got off.
Another time this guy got on and sat down next to a mother and two of her daughters who looked to be 5 or 6, and he just started casually sticking a needle in his vein and nodded off for the ride. A few times I’ve seen people casually whipping out a pipe and smoking crack in between stops. It has a very plasticky and chemical smell.
One of the stations where I see a lot of them is the 168th Street, deep underground, where the 1 train station is. That is one of the filthiest train stations I have ever seen. It has all the attractions we’ve been talking about and more, all in one place. People lay on the ground, people defecating and walking around like zombies, rats running past them and on them. On a hot summer day, with no ventilation and air conditioning, it sometimes feels like literal hell.
The Beauty of it All
I was talking to Dennis once about the beautiful subway stations in some other countries, and just said out loud, “This is one of the biggest and most sophisticated subway systems in the whole world, why don’t they try to make it look better?”
And he looked around as we stood on the Subway platform, all humid on a hot summer day, with like a shit stain and god knows what splattered on the wall – and he replied, “Being like this gives it its New York character.”
Ever since he said it like that, I’ve been looking at it differently. It does have a lot of character, which in a way reflects the toughness, the craziness, and unpredictability of New York City.
