I thought I was smart to try it right before noon, beyond the morning rush. But people still bumped into me as I descended tight steps into a hot station. Wearing my new "New Yorker" face, I tried matching their pace but failed. Within seconds, I was an annoyed human pinball, bouncing against shoulders and backpacks.
Hundreds of people raced passed me like it was rush hour anyway. "Directional" signs hung low from dark ceilings, listing Penn Station, the LIRR, New Jersey Transit, and the New York City subway. I didn't understand where they were leading.
I floated over to a grimy token booth. The clerk within was a lone sentinel, aloof to the frenetic energy outside. Cool air seeped out of a slot in the chest-level tray. A faded window sticker promoted the "Ten Pack" of ten tokens for ten dollars. I figured I should just load up, so I slipped a ten-dollar bill from my precious cash supply into the opening. Finding a bank to deposit my cashier's check from Ohio was turning crucial.
"A Ten Pack?" I asked.
The attendant grunted from within. Or I think he did. Down there, it felt like my ears were plugged up from swimming all day.
"Which way to the 1 train going downtown, please?"
Without looking up, he pointed to a sign over my left shoulder with an arrow and the numbers 1, 2, 3 and 9. Alrighty.
"Thank you, sir."
After following the arrow up some steps, I spied turnstiles and then more signs over a train platform that said "Downtown." Thank God because I didn't see any signs for "Uptown." I fished out a brass token and slipped it into the coin-sized slot. And with a push through, I was a dollar closer to being a real New Yorker.
Photo: Pixabay/StockSnap
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