Saturday morning, 11:45, No. 1 train headed downtown, New York City Subway:
On my way to a lower east-side lunch, I boarded a train at Penn Station and immediately smelled a powerful combination of man-stink, B.O., and a portopot. The doors closed, and I looked over, and there, in the back of the car, stretched out over the equivalent of four hard bench seats, was a 40ish man, maybe 375 pounds, with half of his distended gut pushing out of a worn T-shirt and above the belt of filthy sweatpants. The man was snoring like a steam locomotive. I was on the train for seven or eight minutes and he never stirred. You could hear him snoring in Pennsylvania. I never talk on the subway, but I did make eye contact with a man across from me who, too, was incredulous. "I've never seen anything like that in my life -- how can you sleep that soundly on a moving subway?'' I said. The stranger said: "That's better than I've slept in 10 years.''
I got off the train to transfer to the L train. Waiting for the Brooklyn-bound L, I saw a seven-inch rat scurry along the tracks and look up as if to say, "Got any Jujubes up there for me?''
Gotta love New York. I think with this story and the JFK Airport story of a couple weeks ago, I could be doing quite a bit to slow the Manhattan population explosion.
