I loved the subway in Chicago (the "el" OR the "L" and, actually, it's quite a point of contention, which I always thought was rather strange). It wasn't necessarily efficient, but it was easy:
-Displays at every station that show when exactly your train is coming.
-Generally uncrowded, except for rush hours.
-Helpful announcements, at every stop, to tell you on which side of the train the doors would open.
-Teeny tiny little city, where you can get almost anywhere inside of a half hour.
Cake, right? It's not the same in New York. For one, NY's subway system is bigger. MUCH bigger. I almost went straight back to Chicago when I saw the size of the subway map alone. If you confine yourself to one side of Manhattan, sure, it's totally manageable...but why'd you want to do that? Also...displays at some stations, and they're wrong most of the time. And then there's the crowd. The trains here are almost always crowded. If you find a seat, you are wedged in. No announcements...the speakers are broken more often than not. Dear, dear me, I'd actually have to learn this whole city by heart. I'd managed to soundtrack my subway time with a friendly, unseen and soothing train voice, but no more.
But hey! I've been here for a few months now and I'm doing pretty well. I still get confused and I've gotten lost more than a few times, and I don't enjoy, per se, when my nose is smack dab up against an armpit, but I've managed, and admirably. I am, however, comically clumsy. One time in high school I managed to trip on my pants leg and do a front flip/cartwheel off of our big stage into the orchestra pit, just before opening night. I drunkenly ran down a huge hill in college and tried to clear a hedge, and ended up with a horrible sprained ankle. A couple of years ago I slipped on a thin patch of ice and was home from work for a week. And, on an everyday basis, I bump, bruise, and trip my way around this good earth, much to the delight of onlookers.
So I fell at the train station today. I was steady throughout the ride, but then I got to the evil Atlantic/Pacific station and fell up the stairs as I was walking to catch the R. Up! I think that I was walking too slowly and my foot caught on a step, my backpack did nothing to help the situation, and I lurched forward and managed to catch myself just before my teeth hit the cement. It took a moment to regain composure, but by then the kindly folk rushing past (and over me, I think) had already started yelling. I apologized profusely and ran to catch my train, but just before I got on a lovely woman started dancing right in front of me, pointing at me and screaming about "lazy bastards" or somesuch thing. It was delightful.
I'm fine with mayhem, but the circumstances this morning left me slightly shaken (probably because it all happened before 7:45). I was early for work, and thank goodness, because I had a chance to stop here. I think that they serve the best bagels in all of Brooklyn, and my toasty garlic with cream cheese, enjoyed on a bench outside of the bakery, put me at ease. I'm not sure what it is about bagels -- my family's propensity for Sunday brunch, the inherently comforting aroma of fresh baked bread -- but I never tire, especially not in New York where they are, in fact, better. And on this kind of a morning, "better" is so very appreciated...even though my body, and my pride, might still be sore.
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