Scene on a Downtown Train - New York City, New York, USA

I'm fortunate enough to be able to travel to New York City a couple of times each year. On a recent trip I was able to combine a little work with a day of visiting friends and catching up on their busy New York lives. Like millions of the locals, when I'm trying to get around Manhattan I prefer to go underground. As a Seattleite, a public transit system that functions efficiently is something I covet. Most of the New Yorkers I know, however, have a skewed idea of time and distance. In a given day of connecting with friends, I'll take the subway from the Upper West Side, to the East Village, to Chelsea, and Washington Heights and not think a thing of it. My local friends are always so grateful that I'm willing to make the trip that, to them, seems like a long way. All of this is to say that, I love the subway.

As a people-watcher and someone who loves the odd random encounter (the odder the better) the subway is always an adventure. I had finished my business and had visited all of the people I had wanted to see and was headed to catch the shuttle to Newark Airport. I shouldered my bag and descended the stairs at West 81st Street to catch the C Train to West 34th Street at Penn Station. It was the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday. The platform was relatively empty, so I was able to sit down on an available bench.

"Oh my God, I just missed the train, didn't I!" came a startling, frantic voice.

I looked toward the turnstile and observed a well-heeled woman in her 50s struggling to get through the gate. She was immaculately dressed, well-coiffed and, in a calmer moment, it would be easy to imagine her walking a miniature poodle with a diamond-studded collar. Right now she was in a near state of panic, as she as she ran up and collapsed on the bench next to me.

"Is everything okay?" I asked innocently.

"Okay! No, honey, everything's a disaster!"

"Can I help you with anything?"

"The C, I'm looking for the C. Did it just leave?"

"No..."

"Thank God!" She interrupted. "I'm late. I'm trying to get to Broadway and 53rd, does the C stop at 53rd?"

"Well..."

Oh my God! I tried to take a cab but the bastard was eating a pizza. A WHOLE goddamn pizza, can you believe it?"

"Uh..."

"So I hail this cab and I get in the back and tell him, I says, 'I got to get to Broadway and 53rd.' And what does he do, he turns UPTOWN on Central Park West, the wrong way AND against the light. So I ask him what the hell he's doing and you know what he says to me?"

"Well..."

"The bastard says, 'you seem nervous, maybe you should get out.' Get out! The bastard threw me out on the street," she gestured dramatically to the floor. "If he hadn't been stuffing his face with that entire f***ing pizza, I'd probably be there by now. If you was driving a cab and you was trying to eat your lunch would you stop to pick up a passenger?" She pointed an accusing finger.

"I really don't know..."

"Well, I hope you wouldn't. Oh my God, I've lived in New York my whole life and I've never run across such an inconsiderate bastard." (I found this hard to believe) "Honey, does the C go to 53rd?"

She was calming down now so I felt I could answer, "No, but it will get you close."

"What does that mean? Oh my God, I never ride the subway, I don't know what I was thinking."

"We'll stop at 50th, where are you trying to go?" The train was pulling up to the platform.

"I got these tickets to La BoHEME," she said, emphasizing the last syllable in a breathy approximation of the Italian. "I'm never late and I know they get pretty strict about letting you in. I mean last month at Rent my friend who was meeting me was late and they didn't let her in until intermission, can you believe it?"

"Actually..."

"I mean you pay all that money for the ticket and you'd think they'd let you in. Oh my God do you think I'll miss much? I mean if they don't let me in until intermission, will I know what's going on?"

We had boarded the train and sat next to each other. I was hooked. "You said you saw Rent last month?"

"Yeah, beautiful play!" she oozed.

"It's pretty much the same story."

"What! No, what do you mean?"

"Rent is an updated adaptation of La Bohème." This was met by a blank stare. "Puccini's opera, La Bohème?"

She patted me on the hand, "Opera, I'm not going to the opera honey." I didn't know what to say to that. "But will I miss much?"

"Act I is only about 25 minutes long."

"25 minutes! I'm paying all this money for 25 minutes?" She wasn't really hearing me so I let it go. "So we get to 50th which way will I go?"

"To the left." I made that up, hoping it was true. What this poor woman needed was a definite answer, correct or not.

We had left Columbus Circle and the next stop was 50th Street Station. As we pulled up to the platform, she grabbed my hand and gushed, "Thanks, doll, you're my angel!"

With that, the darted off the train (to the left) in a whirlwind of chaos.