Today on the L Train
On the way home after the movie, I noticed a half dressed man on the platform at 1st Avenue. He got into our car, his blue jeans hanging low and revealing his BVDs. He was clearly drunk or high or both, very agitated, and bleeding from his elbow. He sat down diagonally opposite from me. He noticed his blood and then made a face. He was either about to cry or was trying to hold in a desperate need for a toilet. Possibly both.
Fidgeting like any addict, he stood up and opened the door at the end of the car. However, instead of passing through to the next car he stood between them, desperately trying to maintain his balance. I became nauseous watching him. As the train rocked images of him losing his balance and falling under the car entered my mind. Another passenger tried repeatedly to talk the man into re-entering the car.
Every MTA car has a red call button that passengers can push to communicate with train personnel “in the event of an emergency”. Yusef hit the button and we waited for the conductor’s voice to ask what was wrong. But nothing happened. He hit the button again. Still nothing. The train rocked, the addict perched, a woman across from me pulled a rosary from her purse.
Between the 1st Avenue and Bedford Avenue stops the train enters a tunnel and goes under the East River. Typically I can feel my ears pop as the train climbs down and then back up. Friday night though the train was moving very slowly. We were crawling towards Bedford Avenue. Maybe no one was responding to Yusef’s repeated button pushing because they were already aware of the situation and everyone was busy applying the brakes.
Eventually we pulled up to the Bedford platform where a duo of police officers were waiting. And then we were on our way again.
