Talking to my mom made me remember yet another true but bizarre happening on a train platform in good ol’ Crooklyn. Most of it is below.
This one’s gonna be quick and dirty (in more ways than one), as I seem to have 10 more things to do and I’m losing sunlight, arrgh.
The date? I’m gonna estimate this was around 2000, just based on the route I was taking to work. I was running late, and everyone with me on the A train pulling into the station was straining to see if the F was coming in on the opposite track. Yes! I thought silently, seeing it sit there with doors open. The only thing better than seeing your transfer sitting waiting for you, was to beat it by seconds into the station, so you’d be first to the doors and could strategize better for any seats that might be available. Anyone who says they don’t do this (or at the very least, anyone who wears heels to work) is totally, totally lying.
The A train came to a stop with that high-pitched screech that made you wonder if you maybe wouldn’t survive the trip after all. Then the doors opened and I saw some officers, so I slowed down a bit–cops on a platform meant no one was rushing off anywhere soon. Then my eye took in a few things very quickly: