When I got down to the 4/5/6 train platform at Grand Central this morning, there was a glob of about twice as many people as usual waiting. I stayed in the back of the crowd, because I believe in things like letting the people who were there first get on the train first. When it arrived, I let the glob shove their way in and then took my position at the edge of the platform, primed to get in first when the next train came. Only when it did, this squat white lady in a blouse bought too big to fit over her old lady boobs tried to pummel her way in front of me, but oh no, I gave her a hard elbow jab to the neck and took up as much space as I could inside the car just to spite her.
So I was reading my New York magazine and holding onto the metal bar above my head in order to keep my armpits aired out when the train stopped at Wall Street and lingered a little too long there. The doors closed a minute later, but we still didn’t move, so I took a seat and relaxed with an article about a Jewish woman from my neighborhood who rejected her faith and had her baby stolen from her by her zealot husband. (Exciting!) Another minute later, the air conditioning suddenly went off. Now, the air conditioning goes off all the time, but that’s just for a second while it resets itself, and you almost welcome it going off for that second because it feels so good coming back on.
This time, though, the air stayed off, and the car became eerily silent. The conductor came on over the loudspeaker and told us that the next station had a smoke problem and that the air conditioning needed to be off so that our train wouldn’t vent it in. We sat pretending to be cool about the whole thing for a while despite the fact that it would’ve been nice of them to, you know, at least open the doors while we were stuck there, but then a woman across from me started going on about how ridiculous it was, how “someone should call 911,” because they were trying to “incinerate” us. The temperature went from slightly too warm to nearly unbearable, and we all looked at each other scornfully, thinking, This is all YOUR fault.
And then someone farted.
Which made getting off at the next station and having to cough through a corridor of dirty smoke feel like quite a nice change, actually.
