For three years I was a regular commuter in the New York City Transit system, along with about four million other daily riders. Our interests were represented by the Straphangers Campaign, a division of the New York Public Interest Research Group. Its aims are summed up briefly by saying that they aim to make everyone’s commute easier and less stressful.
Anyway, the campaign runs a message board where many New Yorkers come to both vent their frustrations about the system and chew the fat. For the three years I commuted, I read the boards regularly. I learned a lot about the NYC subway system from the buffs that frequented the boards; I learned about other people’s subway-related experiences, both comical and serious; I kept up to speed on the latest service changes and whatnot to ensure that I could always make my way from point A to point B with a minimum amount of hassle. I would say that there are at least hundreds if not thousands of people who are better-informed riders as a result of the Straphangers Campaign’s efforts.
I don’t live in New York anymore. The realizations come in spurts. Comprehension is another story. But it hit me when I caught up on posts to the Diaries after an absence of at least a month. My guess is that it was a month and a half, but goodness, it seems like much longer.
I read people’s posts about the subway. I read notices of subway service changes. I read people’s posts about city life. And while the neural patterns of recognition and understanding fired in my mind, I felt all too clearly that the bond, the link to the city had been severed.
I visited the city a few weeks ago, on a Monday morning. I traveled to the city in the middle of rush hour via NJ Transit, arrived at Penn Station, and walked over to the subway station at Herald Square. I bought a $4 Fun Pass, swiped at the turnstile with the benefit of three+ years practice, and walked down to the N/R downtown platform.
And I forgot where it was on the platform I needed to wait in order to end up nearest the exit at 8th Street.
You may be familiar with the phenomenon known as pre-walking. Basically all you do is position yourself at stops such that the distance you need to walk is minimized. When you get into a routine, it comes naturally to you. It’s not unique to New York, but I think it’s so common in the city as to be a staple of the commuting life. And having made the transfer from the F to the N/R regularly for at least a year, it had become ingrained into my head where it was that should wait for a downtown train.
At 179th Street, walk to the middle of the platform, marked by the second to last staircase walking east. Or, if boarding at 169th, use the second-eastmost staircase as a marker. Wait a few steps to the rear. This will put you right at the foot of the second-northernmost escalator leading from the downtown 6th Ave. platform to the mezzanine level. Take escalator up, make U-turn leaning left. Take first right to stairs to downtown Broadway platform. If a train is arriving, board. Otherwise, proceed down the platform to just before the next set of stairs. That will put you right in front of the turnstiles at the 8th Street station.
I put myself in automatic, in cruise control, on that Monday morning and I forgot all that which had been second nature. Boarded all the way to the rear. Completely messed things up.
You might say that I felt like such a tourist. Except tourists can’t navigate the sidewalks of New York as deftly as those with experience. That skill, at least, had not withered. But while it felt like I had never left, things were still…different all the same.
It’s like when two people in a relationship start drifting apart. The signs are there, but the kicker is when the two of them share a kiss that totally falls flat. No sparks anymore. The magic is gone. That’s when you know that the closeness is gone.
*sigh* We’ll always have McSorley’s.
