Today I might find out if this woman is for real. Or I might not. It’s about the chocolate. I’ve been giving her a square of Lindt dark chocolate most days the past couple of weeks. Last time we parted ways she asked a bunch of questions about the chocolate and asked to take a picture of the one package I had. She also made rapid-fire comments I could not hear about what I believe to be our weekly conversations on the 2/3 train. She has been telling others about these conversations, at least that was about as much as I could glean. She sometimes speaks barely above a whisper and my targeted hearing, my ability to parse out one voice among a maelstrom of sounds, is poor.
Today’s subway ride was interesting. I shared the first part of the journey with a sound-asleep dude who looked to be positively styling in a 5-star accommodation. A comfy beach chair, all his earthly possessions neatly stored in coolers and luggage. How he slept through the roar of the passsage from Queensboro Plaza to Lexington is a mystery for all ages but he seemed to be driving. I had entered at 36th Avenue, which I don’t usually do anymore because the station is so depressing an unkempt I’m not comparing it to Chambers Street or any of the numerous filthy and gnarly stations throughout the syste,. The disappointments of 36th Avenue are more subtle. None of the digital screens work. Announcements are inauduble, except for the shrill announcements that pierce the night warning one and all not to subway surf. Why are these PSAs so loud when the necessary announcements evoke Mrs. Othmar? And the pigeons. They seem to quietly own certain areas of the station. It’s not a matter of comparing to other stations. But the station equidistant from my starting point is Broadway, and it feels like it’s a living thing. The signs work, the announcements are audible, and the general vibe of the area at the intersection of 31st Street just feels more alive compared to the poorly-lit intersection at 36th Avenue, where a Dunkin’ barely keeps the corner alive and nothing else is opened.
Getting to Lexington I made the rookie mistake of thinking the 4 train would arrive on the 4 train express platform. The puzzle pieces of the overnight subway arrangements are often lost on me and today was no exception. No express trains. Fine. I always leave with plenty of time for clearance. But still, the express platform was not cordoned off as it sometimes is. The clue that I was on the wrong platform was one of the digital signs saying the next train was due in a half hour. Climbing the stairs, climbing the stairs, at least there is an escalator, I made it to the 4 on the local where I chose a car with a floor partially coveered in vomit and the continuous stare of som hoodied dude who looked like he’d been out all night. Oh, balls, I have to go.