Fiction Friday: [A Study in Human Behavior on the C Train]

I clenched my jaw against the screech of metal grinding against metal and didn’t relax until it stopped. The subway car filled with the droning hum of an idling train. And the groans of my fellow commuters.

It happened way too often for me to be concerned and nine times out of ten we’d be moving again in under a minute, so I remained quiet behind my New York Post. No point wasting the energy when I knew work would stress me out enough.

Peeking over the paper, my eyes skimmed over heads buried in books, those happy to have an extra minute of time in a world far from the bowels of New York City. My focus was drawn to the faces already painted in panic. The man who stood in front of me mumbling swear words under his breath. The huffers and the grumblers. The eye darters, the feet tappers, the head shakers. And to those who needed the entire train to understand how inconvenienced they were by the situation.  

It wasn’t like I relished in other people’s discomfort. I was just captivated by human nature. Like how a situation could yield such a variety of reactions based on the culmination of individual factors that led them to this very moment. It was fascinating.

A pin drop silence filled the car when the idling hum came to an abrupt end. I stretched my jaw to clear the cotton ball stuffed feeling it caused in my ears and enjoyed the ten seconds of muted confusion before the realization kicked in and the air filled with irritation and impatience. Even the most passive of commuters joined in. We were going to be here for a while.

The crackly fizz of the intercom drew everyone’s attention. Every ear dutifully tilted upward as if straining their necks would help to translate the marbled words woven deep within the static. The announcement ended, none of us any more informed about the delay than before. This only served to garner more outbursts and exaggerated sighs from the attention seekers, more shuffling and nibbling from the nervous Nellies. Even the bookworm’s faces flashed annoyance before digging their noses back into their fantasy worlds.

Moments later, the lights flickered above right before the train jerked forward. The man standing in front of me knocked heavily into the woman next to him. He muttered an apology under his breath, but nose in book, she barely even noticed. Applause dappled around the train car, the strings of tension loosening. As the air thinned, I sat exhausted by the choppy waves of emotion that had crashed all around me...in the past three minutes.

Fiction Friday: [Toeing the Line]

Just the thought of standing too close to the platform edge scared her. She’d heard the stories, although rare, of some demented psycho pushing a fellow commuter onto the tracks. There’s no way to survive getting hit by a New York City subway train. No way.

Across the platform a woman stands so close to the edge that both feet are on the bumpy yellow strip. The yellow strip you’re supposed to stand behind. Behind. How does she not know this?

The sound of the metal beast nearing causes a tightness in her chest and a shortness of her breath. As much as she didn’t want to die via subway collision, she didn’t want to witness it either.

Regardless, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Away from the calm that never left the woman’s face. Her nonchalance as she teetered on the brink of death. She couldn’t comprehend the woman’s bravery. Couldn’t imagine what it was like not to flinch in the face of danger.

But she wanted to. She wanted to understand. She wanted to know what it was like to live, for one moment, not drowning in fear.

Screeching rocks her back to reality--surrounded by commuters plugging their ears against the grating of wheel to track. She watches as the woman, head aloft, disappears into the crowded car. She’s gone. Lost within the sea of black wool coats and free newspapers.

The intercom crackles above and, through the static, she knows her train will be arriving soon. Heart thumping and mind racing, she makes a decision her mind hasn’t quite registered. The platform vibrates under her feet as the train growls into the station blowing her hair back and away from her face. Startled and confused, she looks down. A sense of hope whirls around her--mixing with the gust from the train--as she finds her right foot firmly planted across the yellow line.