A Girl’s Guide to Getting a Seat on the Subway

I consider it a personal failure if I have to stand on the train my entire commute to work.  It’s devastating, it starts me off on the wrong foot.  It’s the equivalent of getting to the coffee place and finding they’ve run out of skim milk.

Okay, I’m exaggerating, but still.  I’m on the damn train for 19 stops, if I can’t get a seat, how can I call myself a tried and true straphanger?  Luckily, this rarely happens.  And so, in my infinite wisdom (again, exaggerating), I will share with you the surefire ways to get a seat on even the most crowded train.  Of course, some of these may only work if you are young, or a female, but it won’t hurt to try.

• Find a spot and stick with it.  If you’re in the same spot for a number of stops, the person you are standing in front of is likely to notice and feel some sympathy, so that when they do get up, they gesture at you specifically to take their seat.  You’ve earned it.
• Claim a space between a few people.  On the new subways this is more difficult, what with that “improved passenger flow”, but it works like a charm on the old ones.  Stand in the “L” of the subway seats, covering maximum opportunities.  That’s three seats, right there (maybe even four!) that you’re ready to pounce on when the moment is right.
• Stick near a duo, whether they are standing or sitting.  If they’re sitting, there is an increased chance they’ll leave together, doubling your chances at seatitude.  If they’re standing and only one seat opens up, neither one of them will want to be that person and sit whilst the other must remain standing.
• Keep an eye on accessories and clothing that give away a persons destination.  Those wearing gym clothes are probably not looking to travel an hour to their favorite gym, they’ll be picking somewhere close and they’ll be getting off soon.  If there is a student, there are certain stops with more popular schools.  And of course, if they’re in a Rangers jersey, they’re probably disembarking at Penn Station.
• Continuing the previous step, watch facial expressions and the “I’m almost there” prepwork that each subway rider does (whether they realize it or not!).  Eyes shift to figure out the best route to the door.  Newspapers shuffle.  Reading glasses are put away.  If you spot a cluster of these sorts of actions, ignore the cardinal rule of sticking in one spot and hustle your way over.
• Know your car!  The first and last car are both a blessing and a curse.  More people get on, more people get off.  If your destination station has multiple stairways, take advantage and more towards a more central car.

No, Bless You

Before the chill set in, I equated my first winter riding the subway regularly to that first winter in school.  In kindergarten, everyone gets sick.  You’re not used to such consistent, close contact, and germs spread like it’s their job (which I suppose it is).  I expected that before Christmas, there would be at least a day or two where I was too sick to go to work.

Knock on wood, that hasn’t happened yet, but I’ve had my fair share of sneezes.  Not from dust, not from a cold, just an occasional sneeze.  I am sure to sneeze into my own tissue/arm/sleeve, and I give myself a healthy dose of Purell afterwards.  In other words, I make my sneeze as unobtrusive and uncontagious as possible.

This entry is not about my sneezing, but about the lovely, wonderful, random New Yorkers that say “Bless You”.  My first encounter with this phenomenon was way back in November.  I had just left a few friends at the bar, and was standing by myself in the Delancey St. station.  It was that time of night when you sure as hell hope that you didn’t just miss a train, because if you did, you’d be waiting awhile.  I was a little sniffly.  Luckily, the train came a few minutes later, and as it’s pulling into the station, I sneezed.  The cars are still going by, but very slowly.  I look up, and what do I see?  A guy standing in the doorway of a slowly moving subway car, mouthing “Bless You” through the window.  I thought that was just about the nicest thing that had ever happened to me.

Yesterday, I was standing at the corner near my office, about the cross the street, and boom! another sneeze.  A jolly old mailman was crossing the opposite way (and mind you, this is less than 48 hours after I was nearly pushed into moving traffic by an irate mail carrier and their cart of correspondence), and he said “Bless you!”  He was too far away before I could say thanks, but I did anyway.

It almost makes me want to sneeze more often, just to see how many other times these kind New Yorkers come out of the woodwork to make sure my soul doesn’t escape through my mouth.  Not enough to mean I’m home sick, though.

Subways Don’t Hit Roadblocks, But I Do

I opened today’s edition of the ever-present amNY, and I come upon this article:

MTA Takes on Copyright Thiefs

Excellent, and my book hits roadblock one just pages into the 2010 calendar.  I’ve already thought of changing the book around a bit in an effort to make sure that all of the intellectual property is my own.  That means that most of my stories will be based off of my experiences (although I do still envision sitting at a folding table in the middle of the Times Square station with a big sign asking people for their experiences as well).  I’m thinking that rather than carrying around release forms and photographing complete strangers, I’ll take more structural pictures, or use friends as my models (I do have beautiful friends).

But I still feel that the MTA wouldn’t like even that.  Would I be able to take pictures of station signs?  Of the subway seats?  Or conversely, how much would it cost, and how much time would it take, to get permission to use MTA “trademarks” (apparently they have copyrights on almost everything).  I guess it wouldn’t matter if this whole book thing never saw the light of day, but I don’t want to put so much work into it to find myself running into MTA-style red tape the second I make any moves to get it printed.

Sigh.