Oh, the subway. How quickly I earned my City of Constant Motion cred by learning to grumble about this system. I've shaken my fists when I've followed the instructions of a service alert to wait on the local platform, only to watch my train arrive across the station on the express platform a few minutes later. I've sighed very melodramatically while pacing about the platform, wondering where the next train could be. I've groaned with exasperation as the overly perky announcement calls out, "
Ladies and gentlemen, be-
cause of construction, trains are not! running between --- and ---.
As an alternative,
free shuttle buses ..." And I've rolled my eyes at the beats (cht! cht! cht-t-t-cht - cht-t-ch - cht!) that bleed out of seemingly everyone's ear buds.
But I'm so grateful for the subway. It always does come, even when I feel like I've waited forever. And then I can sit and rearrange my messenger bag or rummage around for my chapstick, or take out my book, or do some writing for work (I do my best writing on the train!) or sketching. Then there's the break dancers and the mariachi. And my favorite thing about it - it's environmentally friendly. I love my Saturday morning routine of bundling my compost up and taking the subway three stops to the farmer's market, where I drop the compost off and fill up again on heirloom apples. It's wonderful.
And then, once in a while, you come across something like these scenes. The subway beautiful? The subway cute? Really and truly!
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