Subway Rides

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.