They say the subway is not like an elevator, but who are "they" anyway, right? I guess there are some things you need to learn on your own. With all the chaos of grungy-looking men playing guitar while you veer away from being trampled by hasty strangers, distraction is an inevitable fault.
After probably the fifth try, I sat holding my purse tight as I practiced my specialty of people watching. As we all know, nothing and no one is surprising in this city, that's for sure. I was able to make it to my first day of work thirty minutes early, which was good I guess because thirty minutes is on time in this city.
The day's debacle didn't occur until after business hours when I decided to schlep on the subway (again) to accomplish my first grocery trip with my friends Carly and Kendra. I wasn't really a fan of the idea of lugging around heavy bags filled with Almond milk and cereal boxes, but some things just need to be done. Even though my dorm is surrounded by excessive amounts of pizza places and trendy coffee shops, somehow there is not a single grocery store within blocks. Figures. So we took the 6 train (look at me expanding my horizons) two stops to Union Square. Of course, this didn't go as planned. Typical.
Not even thinking we left for this adventure during rush hour and found ourselves literally pushing our way to get onto the overly crowded train. My trick of getting on at the back of the train failed me for the first time. This is where my rant about subways not being like elevators ties in. As we rushed to get on, we noticed the doors closing in front of us. This is when I saw Kendra's face experience a combination of disbelief and fear, but she somehow was still laughing. This was actually not a joke. In an attempt to keep the doors open Carly shoved her hand into a machine operated door, as if she had some magical strength to keep them open. She didn't realize this was a mistake until she was screaming for help to random strangers with her hand stuck in between the sliding doors. You know how you always hear that the people in New York aren't friendly? Well you would think that when a twenty-year-old girl is yelling for help maybe some ounce of empathy would occur. Not in our case. Carly managed to get her hand out and the door slammed right in Kendra's face and the subway sped off. After laughing and hiding our faces in utter embarrassment we realized we had no service underground to text Kendra. #firstworldprobz. The experience was too much for Kendra to handle so she decided she'd rather commute back home to Connecticut for two hours than deal with another subway disaster again. Wise choice.
Another schlep on the subway with our bulky grocery bags and we were home. I couldn't even bear the thought of food or moving another inch. By 10:30 I was passed out in bed with the lights on and music playing. Exhaustion was an understatement. Oh, the rough life of being an intern.
And so my adventure began. My attempt to become a true New Yorker may not happen over night, but with every giggle and glare from random people that pass by, I'm one step closer.
So, with all that being said, here's my spiel for the day:
When in New York, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Pretend you're in Disney World or something. And when in doubt, if you ever get lost, use that oh so neglected compass app on your iPhone. Seriously, telling me to go NW on Lafayette St. is anything but helpful, HopStop!