Is That a Blackberry in Your Pants or are You Just Glad to See Me?
The S or Shuttle train that cuts across Midtown along 42nd street is a necessary evil in my commute to work. It is a minor trip, lasting a half mile at most. But somehow, in less than 2 minutes, this abbreviated journey manages to be a microcosm of everything that is annoying about riding the subway. Lest you think I was going soft in my old age, I give you a classic Cuervolinda rant on S train etiquette.
1) Respect business hours. The S train is a nonstop Armani-laden cattle drive of Midtown drones until 10 AM at best. If you aren't going to your job in Midtown, stay the fuck off the S train until rush hour is over. There's a handy airport circuit bus chock full of other out of town idiots much like yourself. Drag your fat Minnesotaian ass, your three kids, your baby stroller and your 6 pieces of wheeled luggage onto that.
2) Heed the system. See that glaring 12" wide stripe of yellow safety paint on the edge of the platform? Notice how it is laid out in 5' increments with space between each section? Wonder why everyone is lined up on either side of it? This is because the stripe designates the precise location in which the doorway of the S train will open onto the platform. By strolling up into the open center of the two lines of patiently waiting commuters, you are not only blatantly cutting into a line of people who were here before you, you are also fucking up an otherwise smooth system of boarding and exiting the train. Don't stand there like a fucking salmon swimming upstream to spawn while 50 people have to walk around you because you insist on being the first person into the emptying train. And FYI, it isn't an accident when I ram a backpack into your balls as I exit the train and have to circumvent you.
3) Stay put, jackass. This is a 4-car train, packed tight to travel for a mere 90 seconds and then reverse direction to travel the same 90 seconds in the opposite way. Whichever car you got in, stay in, you moron. You don't need to push your way from car to car, through 250 crabby New Yorkers as though there is a space you simply must occupy for that brief ride. It's probably no coincidence you are always some short fat bastard in a pinstripe suit with a loaded satchel of legal briefs and a flapping issue of the Wall Street Journal in tow. Save that Type A personality shit for that Power Lunch.
4) First on? Last off. You insisted on shoving your way onto the train before the previous load of passengers could even vacate the car. Now in a frenzy that resembles a game of musical chairs with the Board of Directors at Phillip Morris, you hurl your body into the choicest seat, because you couldn't bear the thought of standing up for a minute-and-a-fucking-half. Now that the train is packed to overflowing, you just keep your ass in that chair you insisted on having until those standing around you have moved out of the car and a reasonable amount of space has opened up. Don't fucking suddenly stand up and start pressing into us, and then squeeze past us to get to the door. If you have to stoop, lean or rub your crotch against someone to get out, there is not enough room yet.
5) Shut the fuck up. No one wants to hear your off-key warbling into an Ipod only you can hear, 90 second panhandling pitch to sell me an issue of the Bum News, or your loud recap of the client meeting you just had. You can save it for the long-ass trip on the 2 train to Flatbush, your favorite spot on 6th to work the tourists, or the Metro North railroad ride to Stamford, respectively. The S is a minute and a half of annoyance and chaos and you aren't helping matters.
6) Steer clear. If you must spread out a blanket to hawk your $5 bootleg copies of Harry Potter or your knock-off Coach bags, don't do it directly in the major arteries of foot traffic. Stay in one of the areas that people can pass by without having to move out of the way of your pee-soaked miniature swap meet. Likewise for the guy with the Yamaha keyboard and the creepy dancing Mexican dolls swaying in time to a bad electronic bastardization of "Little Spanish Flea".
7) Let it go. The S train has 3 trains running simultaneously for a 90-second, one stop ride back and forth between Times Square and Grand Central Station. If the train is so completely packed that the occasional ass or messenger bag can be seen protruding from a doorway, don't run up to said doorway and then attempt to cram your ass into the car as well. Don't then get huffy when 20 people who are already more intimate with one another than most married couples refuse to move into space that doesn't exist in order to save you the 45 seconds it will take for the next S train to appear.