Have you had the joy of boarding the subway at 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday? Funny folks you see at that hour. On Sunday I got on the A train at that hour. Destination: Central Park to run the Manhattan Half-Marathon.
It was brrrrrlustery above ground – 14 degree wind chill factor, it was reported. Fellow riders trundled from the platform into the car looking like characters that had escaped from “South Park.” Thankfully the air conditioning was calibrated at a higher degree than usual so the cold air wasn’t unbearable. I couldn’t see my breath, at least.
As the train moved along – local stops on the weekend, don’t you know – passengers loaded on. I imagine their roles by their dress – an exhausted young man in blue scrubs collapsed in a seat, dropped his duffel bag to the floor beneath his feet, and shut his eyes. A medical resident having just finished the night shift at the Medical Center?
More runners boarded and stretched their hamstrings against the doors and the metal poles.
At the subway stop near the men’s shelter three men boarded looking sleepy and disheveled, having been roused from their cots at the earliest hour. One carried a full-to-overflowing Hefty bag with the handle of a frying pan poking through a hole at the bottom. Another smelled badly. Passengers left their seats as he took his. He didn’t notice. He rested his head against the window and soon his mouth hung open as he finished his slumber.
A man boarded in West Harlem, sat in the seat across from me, and blessed himself with the sign of the cross from forehead to chest to both shoulders rapidly eight times. He kissed the nail of his thumb at the end of his ritual and opened the day’s edition of El Diario, I believe it was, with a photo of Hillary Clinton the cover – “Hace Historia” was the headline.
“Isle of Joy” will be the verbal subway system through which I’ll chronicle New York City as a network of neighbors. New York can live up to the most insightful episodes of “Sex and the City” but really is much more. It’s our authentic community of neighbors and strangers who, in a pinch, pull for each other’s success and happiness. And, enforce the boundaries when some days 8 million people living on top of each other is 7,999,998 too many.
A friend told me he’d like to read a blog that teaches him how to live in New York City. (Someone can cue Rosalind Russell in “Auntie Mame”: “live, Live, LIVE!”) I’m happy to show, share and swap info. It will come from boots-on-the-ground living in NYC, not press releases or buzz or blather.
The title of this blog comes from the song “Manhattan” (1925) by Rodgers & Hart: “The great big city’s a wond’rous toy/Just made for a girl and boy/We’ll turn Manhattan/Into an isle of joy.” Over three-quarters of a century later I think the gents had it right – indeed it is an isle of joy when we lift our gaze to take in the wonders around us.
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2 responses so far ↓
continueyoureducation // January 23, 2007 at 11:43 pm
I share your zest for the city…and the subway! It’s rare that I don’t observe something that that tickles me or at least gabs my attention. Though I prefer to bike (for the same reason prob’ly), the subway never ceases to amaze/amuse. I’ve lived in New York for so long that the first thing I do when I get on a train is to see if I know anyone. And you can read on the subway which you can’t do in a cab!
On the subject of vacations, I’ve recently started saying that I have more fun in New York. It’s pretty hard to find a place with more and better things to do. And I know where I’m going!
Bill Horan // February 1, 2007 at 7:14 pm
This is beautiful, elegant writing. I especially liked the piece on Cityscapes. Thanks for sharing.