Summer in New York is a generally unpleasant time. It is incredibly hot, people are irritable, and it smells so bad you can see it. Getting anywhere is a pain and it is the only time and place where I would consider crossing the street just to be in the shade. The New York subway in particular is an unrelenting assault on all your senses. The smells, heat and emotion are ten times as intense, and once you’re inside, there is no way out.

There was a time (last summer) when I was more optimistic about summer in the subway. As an intern at a major television network, I had a long commute from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side. Each additional day in the subway meant I recognized more and more people. The hipster office guy, the sort-of-hot professional with brown hair, the touchy-feely Russian couple. The daily routine had us all standing at the same spot on the platform at the same times. There were never any smiles, nods or signs of recognition, but the fact that I saw these people made me feel that I had finally crossed the threshold into true New York City indoctrination. As a newbie to the city I had always thought familiarity with the subway is the sign of a true New Yorker – or at least a real resident, not just a college student or visitor. Being familiar with subway riders, I got further into the groove of my subway commuter idealism. I felt like being an NYC Subway commuter was like being part of a massive living entity – New York incarnate. Maybe nothing so grand, but we move together, we don’t invade each others space, we all go to work and earn money then return home, we laugh at tourists together.

One of the characters I would see every day was a tall, skinny man on the Times Square NQRW platform. (more…)