So Susannah, you live in New York City now? Don’t you love the unique and brilliant variety to be explored in the layout of Central Park? Aren’t you enamored by the insane variety of cuisines available to you? Have you seen the Washington Square Park Arch from that scene in When Harry Met Sally?
For me, it’s the subway.
Ever since our seventy-two-hour stint in Washington as kids, I’ve been enamored. The only things I remember from the trip are the oppressive heat walking down the Mall, standing in the center of the city, and riding the subway. The utterly magical subway. And I’ve been dreaming about that subway ever since.
The subway, the subway, the subway.
I don’t know if I can pinpoint exactly the reason I love it so much. There is the descent below the streets, as though you are taking the stairs into the bloodstream of the city itself. There’s the comforting clatter of the train itself as it arrives and departs the station. There’s the shared experience of all the people who step onto the subway together, and all the people who are already riding. It’s a communal experience and anything goes. From massive inflatable flowers to pink velvet shoes, you never know what you might find.
Now certainly there’s a loneliness to a new city. As you sit, frantically refreshing the Department of Education’s job postings, the loneliness begins to press down on your nose and eyelids. The weight of loneliness drapes itself across you as you binge-watch Twin Peaks while eating a nine-hundred-calorie specialty cookie.
But the subway doesn’t have time for loneliness. The subway has a purposeful schedule. The subway is a continuous movement. The subway is a capsule filled to the brim with haphazard people shuffling off to all corners of the city. As you rattle along the tracks you can almost feel all their thoughts, anxieties, and latest podcast fascinations filling the air.
We live in a world of isolation. Two long years of fear that proximity will lead to infection and disease. Years of scrolling through our Instagram reels to fill the gaping emptiness of the couch beside us. Years of meetings and interviews conducted over Zoom, as we perch alone in our home office.
Subway is a communion of scattered purposes. The blessing of sitting elbow to elbow with a complete stranger after the past two years? Lifegiving. Give me a packed subway car, and I feel rejuvenated by the sheer presence of humans.
And never forget the fact that it’s underground. Casual commuting through secret underground tunnels. Now I’m sure I just stamped my forehead with a label that reads “Midwest” by referring to the subway as “secret underground tunnels.” But I’m not here to pretend to be something I’m not.
Perhaps someday the magic will wear off, or I will even begin to loathe these capsules of colorful plastic seats. But until then, I will pray for a teaching job that requires a subway ride, I will enthusiastically recharge my Metro card, and I will bask in the communal enterprise that is the New York subway.
Susannah currently lives in New Jersey and works as a 7th grade ELA teacher in East Harlem. When she is not teaching or writing, she can be found exploring independent bookstores, going backpacking, and trying to roller-skate on all the cool trails in the city. She is also recently experienced in the art of citrus skunk repellent (I know you’re impressed).
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Enjoyed this very much, Susannah. Your remark about “pretend to be something I’m not” reminds me of something I heard about Mattie’s aunt. She would say, “we put on some paint to make us look like what we ain’t.” Hope you continue to enjoy your subway, and be what you are!
Love, Pupa
Wow. This is Prince from your seventh-grade class. I randomly discovered these articles while looking you up on google, I do that with a lot of my teachers. Wow, this is amazing writing! I’m inspired.