Summer Means...

Summer means lots of things. It means longer days. It means shorter skirts. For New York it also means lots of tourists AND hellacious experiences on the subway.

I noticed it a couple of days ago but I stopped myself of making it an issue. It's still May I thought. No need to get upset yet. Yesterday it was getting worse though and since this is the last post I will make before June, I will announce it now: THE SUBWAYS ARE GOING TO START STANKING.

Anyone who's been to New York in the summer knows what I'm talking about. It's hot, it's humid and I've got to get from 14th St. and 1st Ave. to 89th St. and Amsterdam Ave. You plan on walking? Fine, assuming you don't need the exercise and you don't want to pay the taxi fare and the bus is too scary (bus riders of any city know what I'm talking about). Ok then. Subway it is:

You swipe the golden (and blue) ticket known as a Metrocard and walk through the turnstile and that's it. You're committed. You walk down the stairs, turn right and you're on the platform.

Dozens of people are on the platform. Not a single one of them is smiling. Girlfriends are resting their matted blond/brunette/red heads on their boyfriends'/girlfriends' shoulders. The boyfriends/girlfriends are totally pitted out and their foreheads are dripping.

A few psychos are wearing long pants. You consider throwing them in front of the train to put them out of their misery. The consideration passes at the thought of time on Riker's Island.

Are you in hell? It's hard to imagine hell being worse. It's so hot that you can see the air. It's easier to grab it with your hands and stick it your pocket than it is to breath it in. How long have you been waiting? Maybe 2 minutes, maybe 10. Whatever it's been, it's been too long.

Finally the train comes. The doors open and you walk in. The cold air on the inside smashes you in the face like a bucket of ice water. It is the happiest moment of your life. You pass 3rd Ave. No one gets off. "Why the hell does the L stop at 3rd Ave?", you wonder to yourself. Union Square. Most get off... Finally some space. But then, oh no...

Off at 6th Ave. Walking to the 1/2/3 uptown train. It's hotter on this platform than it was at 1st Ave. The smell of human is everywhere. People are moving very slowly down the corridor that leads to the Red Line.

You pass the guitar player that marks the half way point. Drop him a dollar. "How on earth can he stand down here all day and play? Wow. He smelled really bad. Can I take my dollar back?"

You descend steeply and finally arrive at the top and turn the corner to go down the stairs to the platform. Made it. Wait a minute. Yes. Still unbearably hot. No trains in sight. The trash is overflowing. It might be the most rancid thing you've ever smelled. Wait, the combination of the trash and the guy that just walked by is the most rancid thing you've ever smelled.

No trains in sight. Damn weekend schedule.

You sit down...Suddenly you awaken! How long have I been asleep? Minutes? Hours? Same person in front of me. No trains. Still hot. Eyes closing again.

Train finally arrives. You're a little groggy but semi-excited about the air conditioning. The car you pick looks relatively empty. Strange. You step on and gauge your surroundings. Wait a minute...The air conditioning isn't working on this car...Doors close.

Express train. 28 blocks until you transfer. 28 blocks of pure hell.

42nd St. sprint off the car and turn around to watch tourists get on a car with no air, and subsequently watch them all get trapped as the doors close. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Laughter passes. It's still god-awful hot. Switch to the 1 train. The air works on this car. Thank you! Eyes close.

Eyes open! At 86th St. Doors open. Still hot. Wander to stairs. Get outside, still hot. Trudge on to 89th St....

Well, that should give you an idea. Hard to say when this will really take hold. I'll keep you updated.