It was 8 a.m., the earliest I’ve been up in weeks. I locked the first door to my house, sat on the steps leading down to the front door, and tied the laces to my cat Vans. With my playlist on shuffle, the first song that played was Coldrain’s March On, very suiting for the start of my journey (and also correlating with the Coldrain tee shirt I was wearing). I unlocked my phone and saw my reflection: my bags were clearly visible and I could already see into my future as an elderly woman. I locked my phone and descended to the front door of my house. My promenade began, as March On was just about to end. I walked by the same buildings and houses, but there was something new: the sidewalk smelled of rotting garbage. However, as I approached the same house with the sunflowers, the smell disappeared. It was 8:13 when I reached the subway station. As I descended the stairs to the platform, I saw the E train to my left, but there were way too many people inside to even try and cram myself in. Luckily for me, a second E train came shortly after. I entered into the train, held onto the poll with my left hand, and started to regret my decision to eat cereal two days in a row. I was not sure if I was still lactose intolerant or if the milk was expired, but was a burning fire pit in my throat, as well as my eyes. The woman in the navy sundress with green leaves standing to my right was way too close for comfort. She clearly had enough room to move over three inches, but I guess she was too busy talking on her cell. This train felt like it was losing the snail race. So, at 8:25, I looked up: Next Stop: Queens Plaza. Great, the train did not even pass the first stop yet. Then, at 8:29, the train stopped. Amazing. I finally get to Queens Plaza and another woman in a sundress comes in and of course she too decided to stand too close to me. But, instead of standing on my right, she stands to my left. I was sandwiched between two women in sundresses. It was fine, I only had two more stops until I reached Lexington. However, the woman in the red sundress repositions herself behind me and now an old man now occupied the space to my left. I felt his hot breath on my left arm, still holding onto the poll. Should I switch hands? No, I am a New Yorker. I am a warrior. So, by 8:37, I finally made to the 6 train platform at Lexington, surviving the Battle of the E Train Commute.
-
Recent Posts
- Hamlet – “Clown” December 1, 2016
- Hamlet/Dictionary Post November 29, 2016
- “Eager” in Hamlet November 29, 2016
- ‘Dearest’ in Hamlet November 29, 2016
- Sometime/ Sometimes November 29, 2016
Recent Comments
- JoMaris on The definition of Hamlet
- Michael Bildirici on Hamlet is Pregnant – Post #13
- d.gorelik on Hamlet is Pregnant – Post #13
- Syed Husain on Sometime/ Sometimes
- Delsy Espinoza on Hamlet – “Clown”
Archives
The strength of this piece lies, I think, in the way the narrator’s sense of balance and synchronicity unravels over a few hundred words, and a few subway stops. The post opens with a moment of serendipity, as playlist, activity, and outfit all harmoniously align. It moves to a sense of disharmony, as the spaces between the speaker and other passengers feel “wrong,” misaligned, out of balance. The final line–as the speaker asserts a core self, untouched by the shifting, irritating, unsettling external world–quietly injects humor into the piece, but it does serious work, too, reasserting something of that initial balance.
Nice work.
Prof Kolb