Yeah, I Still Take the Subway

A study showed that a random person in the world is far more likely to be bitten by a New Yorker than a shark. That won’t come as a surprise to anyone that’s had or seen a heated moment on a New York City street. A bite is sometimes the best you could hope for.

The very act of living among New Yorkers and in New York City is a gamble. When you walk out of your home here, you’re surrounded by obscene amounts of people, infrastructure, activity, moving mechanisms, dodgy cuisine, and precarious air conditioners. Yes, you could avoid all that by sitting alone on an open field in the country. Easily. You could go now, and do that. Go on.

This is a city. It says so in the name. And like all urban settlements going back to Babylon, there’s more opportunity. With it, invariably, more risk. Risk, in all its forms, comes with the literal territory.

Which is probably why I get thrown by the en vogue question, “How can you still take the subway?”

And why I then get weirdly defensive from my Covid-atrophied social skills. “Shut up, you’re a subway!”

After a quizzical look in return, I either move on to something else or clarify my point. Since this is an article and I already wrote the intro that I did, I’ll go with clarifying here.

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BTW YOU’RE ALL IN DANGER AT ALL TIMES

The act of horror recently perpetrated on the Brooklyn N-train is rightfully unsettling. Could’ve been any of us on that subway car. And, in all honesty, despite whatever preventative measures are taken by the MTA and the city going forward, there’s only so much that can be done to stop random insanity.

But that’s also true… wait for it… anywhere.

Yes, good ol’ anywhere. As in any place in the known world. As long as there are people, in a location, there is a chance of bad happening — accidental or deliberate or insane or whatever.

Granted, like any major hub, New York is prone to a bit more of that than, say, rural Finland. But New York is also a microcosm of the point I’m trying to make: it’s not just the subway that’s vulnerable. Washington Square Park, Chelsea Market, your corner bodega, Aunt Millie’s house in Sheepshead Bay, Governors Ball, an axe-throwing bar, every single inch of Midtown, all equally vulnerable to the whims of maleficence. Guess we’ll just have to avoid all of those too. You know, to make sure we’re safe.

Thing is, many people questioning subway ridership commute by driving. They operate a fast-moving vehicle. You are placing yourself in the gravest of dangers by stepping behind the wheel and whirring alongside other machines going 70-plus mph. You just are. It’s a miracle there’s not a billion accidents a minute.

You ever stop and just look at a highway when you’re not in a car? It’s like cars are moving at the speed of sound. It may be the most frightening thing on the planet. Even a tiny Kia humdrumming along feels like a nightmare falcon speeding towards a kill.

And what prevents absolute bloody chaos among these turbo-charged killing pods? Tiny yellow dashes. That’s it. Like, dabs of yellow paint finessed across the pavement. How does that work even? The barriers to megadeath totals are basically invisible and the color of a songbird.

Oh, and then there are the primal emotions that burst out of people on the roadway, like that stomach baby from Alien. Things get ugly, violent, and, yes, deadly, way too often.

Road rage is a thing. Subway rage is not a thing.

Okay, it is. Of course, the subway can be enraging, lord knows. Sometimes the subway is just a cluster of bodies stewing in anger. But it’s still not road rage.

Here’s an example of subway rage: Man shoves/fondles/stabs stranger

Here’s an example of road rage: Man leaves car and shoots/sets fire to/pummels with a 2×4/decapitates a fellow driver.

(No need to verify those specific incidents, by the way. Just keep reading and don’t think about it.)

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***

People, every single day, unavoidably, have to get from Point A to Point B, and back to Point A. With maybe a stop off at Point C for a drink first. Then running in to Point D for deodorant and gummy bears. And, oh wait, did Point E just text me? Ah shit, it’s gonna be another one of those nights. At least I’ll get to Point F.

But whether they do so by car, subway, bus, bicycle, monorail, duorail, rickshaw, the back of an elephant, or that old reliable, the cannon, they’re still going to be screwed if the gods of transportation call their number that day.  If it is getting shot out of a cannon, then most days.

The fact that more of us are working from home than ever, mitigates much of that. You know the old joke: “Doctor, it hurts when I do this.” “Well, then don’t do this.” If you’re not exiting your front door ever, chances that the world is going to terrorize you are greatly reduced. It’s a good life hack, actually.

However, if you’re not one of those damn insufferable remoters, and you must go outside, best of luck no matter what route you take. Take comfort in knowing that whatever the choice, you’ll be mere inches and/or seconds from disaster at all times

So, if you’re asking me, “How can you still take the subway?”, you might as well be asking, “How can you still be around people at all?” Or, “How can you still leave your home and enter society?” Or, “How can you still exist in spacetime?”

Which are honestly all valid questions. You know what they all have in common though: nobody asks them.

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