The Art of Riding the NYC Subway

There's a rhythm to the madness of riding the New York City subway.

Like many others who live here, I know exactly which car of the train to board to be nearest the stairwell when I get off at my home subway station. Not only that, but I know the exact door of the car where I should exit. Same went for when I was commuting to work.

But that's the easy part. Slightly trickier questions include:

• Should I bother sitting if I'm only going a couple of stops?
• Just how close dare I sit to that stinky guy? How much stank can I stand?
• If I'm sitting next to someone and a whole slew of people get off, should I move to a seat where no one is sitting? Will that offend the person I'm sitting next to -- or will it annoy her if I don't? 

I'm certainly not the only one with my own personal subway schemes. A draft report by the Metropolitan Transportation Authority shows "a transit landscape of convenience, game theory and occasional altruism, where often every movement is executed with purpose," according to an April article in the New York Times.

Unsurprisingly, both subway sitters and standers prefer spots by the door. Even less surprising was that standing riders much prefer grabbing onto vertical poles rather than overhead bars. (A not-so-secret trick to getting yourself more space as a stander is to make your way to the middle of the car and use an overhead bar. Standers congregate next to the poles, and it's very crowded. But it's a trade-off: Using the bars is quite uncomfortable.)

Here's my preferences if I'm alone:

1. Sitting next to no one.
2. Sitting next to a pleasant-looking, clean person.
3. Standing next to the door -- you can lean against the door or an adjacent partition.
4. Standing next to a vertical pole. (Note that Nos. 3 and 4 may be switched in an extremely full car. If you stand next to the door, you may have to get off the train for a few seconds to let people off the car. Annoying.)
5. Standing in the middle of the car, using an overhead bar.
6. NEVER: Sitting or standing next to a smelly person. AWFUL. Move to the other end of the car, or to an entirely new car at the next stop.

Baby's First Subway Ride

Spring in Central Park

A baby has a lot of exciting firsts: rolling over, crawling, steps, words. In New York, add "subway ride" to that list.

Paul didn't think it was such an important milestone, so I didn't feel too bad when I packed up Edith, a full diaper bag and a blanket on Tuesday and headed to Central Park. No taking it easy for us: We dove right in with an hour-long subway ride.

Ready for the subway and a Central Park picnic.

No worries. I learned that the subway is akin to the car and stroller -- that is, so soothing that it puts Edith to sleep. She was in dreamland before the second stop.

Still, it was an adventure. One woman raved over her silver sparkly Toms-lookalike shoes. A man (with an accent, so language barrier, perhaps?) asked if she could see. ("I hope so!" I replied.) Another woman didn't realize she was sitting next to a baby until several moments after she sat down -- Edith was tucked so comfy cozy in the Ergo.

The second lady said she didn't notice Edith
because she blended in too well with me!

We made it to Central Park without a problem, although I forgot to account for one thing. It's so early in the season that none of the trees have leaves. That made it difficult to find a shady spot, but after some searching I found some space not directly in the sun across from the Central Park Carousel.

While I ate my picnic lunch (peanut butter sandwich, banana and a chocolate-banana scone picked up from Alice's Tea Cup on the way), Edith played with a couple of toys and listened to the carousel music. She might not have known the difference, but I say that when a carousel plays "Locomotion," the magic is lost.

On the way home, we caught the Q train, where courtesy is alive and well. No fewer than four people -- men and women -- offered their seat to me, even though I declined the kind offers since it's easier to calm a fussy baby standing. Still, I think more people offered than ever did when I was pregnant.

All in all, it was an extremely successful trip. And if I can take my baby on a Central Park picnic alone, I can do anything.

How to Annoy People on the NYC Subway

Most of the people riding the New York City subway are just like you and me: pleasant, quiet, clean, everyday folks minding their own business and hoping that others do the same.

But there are certainly outliers, and sitting next to them can ruin an otherwise fast and fine commute.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the people who interrupt my morning commute on a regular basis. This post is about a different class of people -- the ones who aren't trying to interrupt your books or daydreams by asking for money or playing a harmonica. These are the people who think they're not bothering a soul. They probably aren't even trying to bother anyone. Or maybe they just don't care. Here's how to become one of them:

1. Play a game on your smartphone with the sound on. Once I thought there was a kid nearby playing one of those rainbow-colored toy xylophones. Looking around, I finally narrowed the sound down to a fellow commuter tap-tap-tapping away. Put on some headphones! Or better yet, turn the sound off.

2. Crank up your music. Yes, earbuds are certainly more convenient to cart around the city, but they bleed music like crazy. Either get better headphones or turn down your tunes. Admittedly, I'm more lenient about this when the person is listening to music I like. That isn't very often.

3. Smell. You can sometimes see this person before you smell them. It's the man (always a man) who's bundled up, often asleep and taking up an extra seat for a bag filled with his worldly possessions. Yes, he's probably homeless, and I do feel sorry for him. But sitting next to him, even a few feet away, can make you nauseated within a stop or two. He's surrounded by empty seats.

4. Eat obnoxious food. Your sandwich stinks, and you're probably going to spill your coffee all over me.

5. Have a loud conversation. It's even worse if it's interesting, because then I'm really distracted. Note that this does not apply if you're speaking a language that I don't know. If I can't understand you, then it's just white noise. Carry on. Note #2: Applies only during morning and evening commutes. Evenings and weekends are fair game.

Kids -- even crying infants -- don't bother me. They don't know any better, and their parents are generally trying their best to hush them up. Tourists are fine, too -- I don't mind at all explaining the difference between Court and Cortlandt streets or letting them know how far away their stop is. I try my best to be polite. That's simply what I'm asking of everyone else, too.

Things That Mess Up My Morning Subway Commute

The best morning commute on the New York City subway is the silent one. Unfortunately, that's not very common. It's difficult to go a week without sitting by at least one person with a way-too-loud iPod.

But on the hierarchy of morning subway annoyances, inadequate headphones are on the minor end. Here are the three things that start my teeth grinding before the workday even begins.

3. People Asking for Donations.

I'm not even talking about the homeless or others down on their luck. The people I have in mind always enter the train and loudly announce that they've got peanut butter sandwiches for anyone who's hungry, making sure to clarify that you don't have to be homeless to be hungry. (That part always makes me roll my eyes. Does any well-dressed, white-collar worker on the way to Wall Street select a sandwich to make up for a skipped breakfast? Yeah, right. For that matter, I wonder if anyone takes a sandwich at all.) Oh, and they also accept donations, of course. Of course.

Frequency: Almost every commute.

2. Musicians.

The most common musician on my morning commute is a man with one leg, two crutches and a harmonica. He always plays two songs: one that wouldn't be out of place in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" followed by Simon and Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence." He shakes a plastic container that at one point surely must have held take-out soup from a Chinese restaurant, now replaced with coins. A few people tend to add to the collection as he expertly moves down the aisle. I admire his fortitude and very specialized skill, but it's still annoying.

Even worse are the mariachi bands. I actually like them in the afternoons and weekends. But before 10 a.m.? Not so much.

Frequency: Each and every day, almost without fail.

1. Students on Field Trips.

The absolute worst: 30 school kids with a handful of teachers and chaperones who pile onto your train. The younger kids can be cute, but with the older ones you have to listen to awkward flirting with each other. All of them are loud. And unlike the musicians and donation-seekers, who move on to the next subway car at each stop, the schoolchildren are in it for the long haul. My subway line goes to both the Statue of Liberty ferries and the 9/11 Memorial, so I can generally count on them messing up a good portion of my 45 minute commute.

Frequency: Once every month or two.

New York City Subway Stations: 81st St - Museum of Natural History

The American Museum of Natural History has long been one of my top suggestions for visitors to New York, especially those with kids. Even I find the wild animal dioramas, giant whale, dinosaur skeletons and space exhibits jaw-dropping.

The museum also makes an excellent stop on bad weather days, whether it's burning hot outside or freezing cold. That's because a couple of subway lines at 81st Street on the Upper West Side are connected directly to the museum, eliminating the need to step even one foot outside.

If you weren't quite in the mood to visit the Museum of Natural History before you got off the subway, you will be by the time you get to the exit turnstiles. The walls and floor are filled with "fossils" and mosaics depicting just a little of what you'll find inside. In fact, you'll almost certainly wish you could spend more time exploring the subway art rather than waiting in the long line for tickets inside.

Opossum on the D Train

An opossum, I read, was recently found lounging underneath the seats of a subway car.

According to the New York Times (which is worth a look if only for the picture of the commuter opossum), the animal boarded a D train and caused a long early-morning delay while the train was evacuated and the opossum caught.

But it wasn't so easy. Police officers boarded the train "armed with heavy-duty gloves and a canvas bag" but reversed course when the opossum "bared its teeth and snarled."

City folk, obviously. I remember a time a few years back when my sister's husband grabbed an opossum by the tail in my parents' front yard. I think it was under a car. In any case, I have no doubt he could have gotten that opossum out of the train, and probably without the heavy-duty gloves and canvas bag.

I've seen many things on the subway and the platforms that I'd rather forget. A sewage backup. Guys taking a leak. Rats between the tracks, on the platform and, worst of all, on a step leading down to a station. Not once, however, have I seen a wild animal.

I take 10 to 15 trips on the subway every week, and mostly my commutes are filled only with people sleeping, reading and playing games on their phones. Feces, vomit and wild animals are the exception to the rule. Except rats. There are always rats.

Diane vs. the Toddlers of New York

We were in a large park in Munich when I first heard it: a child speaking German.

This shouldn't have surprised me, of course. We were in Germany, after all. But somehow, even throughout my six years of studying the language, I had never heard anyone of the elementary set speaking it. The tot whose tongue effortlessly rolled off the sentences and phrases I could barely put together almost made me stop in my tracks

That same feeling returns whenever I heard a toddler rattle of the subway lines faster than I can.

To them, it's probably akin to learning the alphabet -- it practically is the alphabet. But, when you're a new New Yorker, it's discouraging to hear a 5-year-old ask his mother if they are going to transfer to the N when you can barely make it to your own destination without looking at a map five times.

I know the routes well enough now that no toddler will show me up ever again. And maybe those kids aren't as city smart as I took them for when we first moved here. A coworker and native New Yorker told me that she, as a child, knew the subway lines near her house but was at a loss in other neighborhoods. I now have at least a rough idea of the lines that go to neighborhoods I've never even been too.

Take that, two-year-olds.

Working on Holidays in New York City

Martin Luther King Jr. Day: Another holiday in which I'm going to work while Paul stays in bed.

Even if the calendar hadn't already informed me, I'd be able to tell it was a holiday as soon as I got to the subway station. The platform will be sparser. On the train, almost everyone will get a seat.

When I exit the station in Lower Manhattan, I won't have to dart across the sidewalk, feeling like I'm playing a barely successful game of Frogger. Instead, I'll be able to leisurely stroll the few steps to the other side. I won't have to watch out for many bankers in business suits; the people most likely to be in my way are the tourists hitting up the Century 21 department store.

I take a different train on the way home, one where I'm almost always not only standing, but also pressed up against at least one person in a way that would be uncomfortable and/or embarrassing in any other situation. On holidays, I might get a seat. At the very least, I'll be able to breathe.

Of course, no one would trade in their day off for a more pleasant commute. But for those of us who don't have a choice, it's not such a bad consolation prize.

New York City Subway Stations: Prince Street

Prince Street is a subway station I've come to know well since I recently realized its proximity to one of my new favorite stores.

It's close not only to Uniqlo, but also to the whole host of major Soho shops that line Broadway. Even Paul doesn't mind the area, thanks to the rock climbing gear at Eastern Mountain Sports.

Because Prince Street is on the R line, I've seen the station innumerable times since we moved to New York. I didn't take a close look at it, however, until about a year ago when I read a book about New Yorkers' subway experiences that featured artwork from the station. (I think it was "The Subway Chronicles," but I'm not positive.)

The walls are lined with silhouettes of hand-sized people going about their daily business. It's not the most exciting -- or colorful -- of stations, but the detail is astounding.


I have to say that the last photo is pretty true to life. Two out of three people really don't look up when they're walking down the platform.

You Are What You Read in New York City

Nineteenth-century British author Anthony Trollope is one of my favorite writers. Since reading his most famous works (like "The Eustace Diamonds") several years ago, I've been going through the lesser known of his 47 novels. Since I know almost nothing about the plot of each individual book, I've pretty much been reserving his novels from the library in alphabetical order.

Then I came to "Rachel Ray."

The book was published in 1863, but the title obviously bears a resemblance to a certain Food Network star. I worried: Despite the alternate spelling, would people seeing me read this novel on the subway think I was reading a biography of Rachael Ray? And does it matter?

It does, but I know it shouldn't.

We subway-goers have very little on which to base an impression on one another. Shoes, coats and mode of commuting entertainment are basically all we have to go on. It's difficult not to judge, not to make up whole life stories. That guy with the volume of his iPod up way too high? A jerk. The woman asleep against the window? I'll bet she has two jobs and at least as many kids.

I try not to, but I must admit that I put some thought into what I read -- or at least how I read -- on the subway. When I decided to read the juvenile "Lemony Snicket" series, I kept them low in my lap so no one would think I was a lightweight. Same with "Rachel Ray."

But more than topic or title, one thing will always disqualify a book from being brought on the subway: weight. If it doesn't fit in my purse, it stays at home.

Who's the Ass(w)hole Now?

Sign at the 42nd St./Port Authority A/C/E downtown platform

New York City Subway Stations: 23rd Street

I'm rarely on the platform of New York's 23rd Street subway station, although I'm often above it.

Where Broadway, 5th Avenue and 23rd Street intersect is a popular area, especially in the summer. The lines at the Shake Shack, the outdoor eatery in Madison Square Park, can be an hour or more long. But the wait is worth it, with a table within a stone's throw of the Flatiron Building.

Although Paul and I are often in the neighborhood, we rarely go into this subway station, opting for the pleasant walk to the 14th Street/Union Square hub. But when Paul sprained his ankle Memorial Day weekend, we did without some of our usual walks.

That meant I got to see a station -- and the hats that decorate its walls -- in person. I normally just glance at them from an express train as it rushes by. I was excited: I got to take some photos I'd long been meaning to snap.

Miles vs. Minutes in New York City

In Ohio, 1 mile = 1 minute.

This is true nearly everywhere, except in the heart of the state's biggest cities and during the unavoidable rush hours.

In New York City, 1 mile = ? This is true in all locations, at all times.

A trip by subway from Bay Ridge to, for example, Times Square could be 30 minutes if the train pulls up as you step on the platform and you then transfer from a local to an immediately arriving express train. Make the same trip after midnight, when the trains are local and you might have to wait up to a half hour for a train, and the trip can easily take over an hour.

What's more, a destination that's further away in miles isn't necessarily further away by subway. It all depends on the nearest subway station and whether that station has express trains.

The distances from our apartment to New York landmarks are deceivingly small, even if you travel by car. It may take only about 20 minutes to drive the 9 miles to Greenwich Village, but by the time you find a parking spot (let alone pay the exorbitant fee), you may just as well have taken the subway.

Here's just a few of our commuting conundrums, from closest (in miles) to our apartment to furthest away:

Staten Island
2 miles
Car: 15 minutes
Subway/ferry: 1 hour

Coney Island
6 miles
Car: 15 minutes
Subway: 1 hour

Battery Park (Statue of Liberty)
7 miles
Car: 15 minutes
Subway: 30 minutes

Greenwich Village
9 miles
Car: 20 minutes
Subway: 40 minutes

Williamsburg, Brooklyn
9 miles
Car: 20 minutes
Subway: 1 hour

Union Square
10 miles
Car: 20 minutes
Subway: 40 minutes

Herald Square
11 miles
Car: 25 minutes
Subway: 45 minutes

Times Square
12 miles
Car: 25 minutes
Subway: 1 hour

Central Park
13 miles
Car: 30 minutes
Subway: 1 hour

Metropolitan Museum of Art
14 miles
Car: 30 minutes
Subway: 50 minutes

LaGuardia Airport
16 miles
Car: 25 minutes
Subway/bus (yup, you need both!): 1 hour 30 minutes

Citi Field (Home of the Mets)
18 miles
By car: 30 minutes
Subway: 1 hour 20 minutes

JFK Airport
20 miles
Car: 30 minutes
Subway: 1 hour 45 minutes

Yankee Stadium
21 miles
Car: 35 minutes
Subway: 1 hour 30 minutes

Subway Adventures in New York

Most subway rides are ho-hum, nothing special. I usually get a seat right away and immerse myself in a good book. I don't bother my co-passengers. They don't bother me.

Lately there's been a few exceptions. To wit:

I boarded the train after work last week. No problems until a couple of stops later. Between the second and third stops, the lights went completely out in our car. I few seconds later, the train jerked forward into the station. Then the doors wouldn't open.

OK. I turned on my cell phone's flashlight and kept reading until the subway workers herded us into a car where the door had been opened. Ten or twenty minutes and a couple of transfers later, and I was on my way home again.

Then something else strange happened. I noticed the guy sitting directly across from me kept glancing up. I doubt I would normally notice this, but I had just finished my book. Instead, I was listening to music, leaving my eyes free to wander. The guy kept looking up, then drawing on his sketch pad. He got off at the stop before me, so I can't be sure, but I think he was drawing me.

When I asked on Facebook if this was creepy or flattering, most people voted for creepy. I tend to think it was neither. I've seen these artist-types on the subway before, and the drawings I've seen them do aren't half bad. I only wish I could've seen what he produced.

In any case, it wasn't nearly as creepy as something that happened a few weeks ago. I had just swiped my MetroCard and was making my way to the platform when something about the man standing against the wall about 15 feet to my left caught my eye. Something about the way he was moving. What is he ... wait ... is he masturbating? I was momentarily shocked but kept on walking. Did I just see what I thought I saw?

I'll never know, but on St. Patrick's Day I had something to compare it to. As the subway rolled into my home station, I saw plain-as-daylight a guy standing against the wall taking a piss. No mistake about it this time. He was barely zipped up by the time the doors opened and people fled by. A ride and a show.

The Murals of 8th Street-NYU

8th Street-NYU.

When I hear the subway conductor (or automated voice, if I'm on one of the newer trains) announce this station, I always look up. I don't care how immersed I am in my book or magazine, I can't help but glance out the windows.

The walls have the most beautiful murals of any station I've visited in New York, rivaled only by those at the Delancey Street/Essex Street station not too far away. The ones at 8th Street are smaller, but I do like them better. Pleasant. Colorful. Something I'd want on my own wall.

It's my favorite subway station in all of New York.

Another Scene from Delancey/Essex

So my new thing is taking photos of the murals in New York City subways.

Or rather, getting Paul to take pictures of me in front of them.

A couple of weekends ago, we found ourselves in the Delancey Street/Essex Street station on the Lower East Side, the same station that has the large fish murals that I wrote about in September.

But the fish are on the downtown side of the platform. On the uptown side: a veritable forest.

So Delancey/Essex gets two completely different murals, and all I get at 77th Street in Brooklyn is a plain orange wall? Manhattan gets all the breaks.

Sandy Vacation Destination vs. A Female Dog

If a New York City subway station has a wall against a platform, you can be sure there's ads on it.

And anywhere there's an ad you can reach in New York City, you can be sure there's some graffiti to match.

Sometimes it's a mustache, but usually it's something I would be embarrassed to describe to my folks.

Not this one. Paul found it so hilarious, that he couldn't wait to whip out the camera and record a closeup for posterity. Look what someone wrote on her neck:

A White Beach: If you're going to deface an ad, at least spell the derogatory term correctly.

Poop in the Subway

A lot of people say they have a crappy commute.

A few weeks ago, that was literally the case.

As I descended the stairs into my subway station after work, the stench was unmistakable. Poop. The stairs and part of the platform were blocked because of some sort of backup.

Luckily my train came quickly, but not so fast that I didn't have time to snap a picture. Oh, the lengths I'll go to for my blog.

Underground Fish on the Lower East Side

The subway platforms on the line I take most often are plain and boring.

Here's the station closest to our apartment:


See that orange on the wall? On the next stop it's blue. Two stops later-- yellow. After that-- gray. You get the idea. I don't even have to read the signs on the subway. I just have to catch a glimpse of the wall.

But many of the stations in Manhattan are much more creative. Take the Delancey Street/Essex Street station on the Lower East Side. It's one of my favorites. Fish murals! It almost makes waiting for the train pleasant.

Almost.

Why I Love New York's Elevated Trains

As you might expect, the subway trains I ride are almost exclusively underground.

The express trains I take into Midtown go over the Manhattan Bridge before burrowing deep into the soil again, and that's generally the only time I see the sky while sitting in the subway.

But New York City does have a surprising number of elevated stops. At least, it's surprising to me because I never see them. I don't know for sure, but they all seem to be in Upper Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens and eastern Brooklyn-- all places I generally don't frequent.

So when I do ride an elevated train, I'm a little like a kid in a candy store. I can't stop looking out the windows-- although the view is of graffiti far more often than of a sweeping view of the Manhattan skyline.

To me, the stations themselves look like works of art, with the tangled rails and intricate metalwork suspending the trains far about the bustle of the streets. That's especially true at night, when the streetlights aren't quite bright enough to illuminate the abundant and unforgiving rust.


And on steamy nights, it's much more pleasant to wait for a train on a breezy outdoor platform rather than descend the stairs into what truly feels like the ninth circle of hell. On spring days, you might even regret the approach of the train.