The doors of the train take an
exceptionally long time to open at the Union Square stop. It's not
just today, they take longer at this stop everyday-something about
the cars aligning. Even though I know they won't open right
away, I still stand shoulder to shoulder with all the other
passengers locked in a ferocious, silent, passive aggressive battle
to be the first off the train. We stare through the murky plastic at
the people on the other side, also standing shoulder to shoulder,
engaged in the same pointless and unspoken dispute.
Every pregnant second that passes I
feel more and more uncertain of the fact that the doors will ever
open. I imagine the horror of being trapped in this packed subway car
next to these strangers who, even on the best days, stare as if they
are plotting how best to murder one another. I wonder how long it
will take for chaos to ensue after it has been established that the
doors will not be opening.
I imagine one woman strangling another
with her head phones. A man breaks his Kindle over someones head
while a child sinks its teeth into his calf. The old lady sitting
down starts hacking away at the legs of those standing with her
formidable plastic cane while the people outside the doors stand
watching, not giving an inch.
When the doors do open, it's all I can
do not to run off the train and away from the crazed strangers.
