Sick.
By, Dominique Turek
Puking, pretty much anywhere, is a major social offense, and the One train and is no exception. Flying past 168th street, a kid leans heavy on his splintered skateboard. He breathes hard and keeps his eyes trained on the floor, his constantly buzzing phone goes unanswered call after call. Riding past 145th street, the color in his face drains and he turns into a paler version of himself. Stopping at 103rd street, the kid doesn’t get off, but instead, pukes all over the floor. True to the New York subway social conduct, nobody says a word. Silently, people dressed for work get up and move away from the large puddle of partially digested lunch, possibly from McDonald’s. Like the passengers, the kid says nothing but rocks back and forth for a brief time before leaning back on his skateboard for support. Slowly, because of the puke, the board starts to slip forward, the boy slides with it.
By, Dominique Turek
Puking, pretty much anywhere, is a major social offense, and the One train and is no exception. Flying past 168th street, a kid leans heavy on his splintered skateboard. He breathes hard and keeps his eyes trained on the floor, his constantly buzzing phone goes unanswered call after call. Riding past 145th street, the color in his face drains and he turns into a paler version of himself. Stopping at 103rd street, the kid doesn’t get off, but instead, pukes all over the floor. True to the New York subway social conduct, nobody says a word. Silently, people dressed for work get up and move away from the large puddle of partially digested lunch, possibly from McDonald’s. Like the passengers, the kid says nothing but rocks back and forth for a brief time before leaning back on his skateboard for support. Slowly, because of the puke, the board starts to slip forward, the boy slides with it.
Resurrection of Michael Jackson.By, Dominique Turek
Late night on the One train, two ten-year-old boys moonwalked their way down the aisle, working tirelessly to keep the spirit of Michael Jackson alive. Equipped with only a boom box wrecked with graffiti, the boys broke into dance. Untrue to form, passengers did not awkwardly bury their faces behind newspapers or into their hands. Dancing with the choreography of true Michael Jason prodigies, the boys took a specific liking to the subway poles while performing some of their more provocative moves. The boys walked down the aisle, hats turned upside-down ready to catch spare change as one boy said to the other, “I bet you can’t throw your hat in the air without the money flying out!” The boys ran around laughing and throwing their hats in the air, singles lying dead on the floor as money took a back seat to Michael Jackson.
Amazing Grace
By: Danae Fahie
Slowly entering the train, a tired older homeless man politely apologizes for interrupting the passengers’ time and only wishes that they will take a couple of minutes out of their morning to listen to a song that he would like to share with them. Not expecting much of an audience as he scans the car to spot anyone who might be slightly interested in listening to him, he closes his eyes, clears his throat and sighs deeply as he prepares to sing. “Amazing grace how sweet the sound” slips from his lips in a low, mellow, and harmonious tone. Taking a few passengers by surprise with his amazing voice, he quickly
gains confidence as he notices people in the car stopping to listen to him sing. As he ends his song with a huge smile on his face, he says “I am not looking for money, I just wanted to share with you the only thing I have left to depend on, my voice.” As he proceeds to walk off the train, a nicely dressed middle aged gentleman walks over to him and hands him a five dollar bill and says, “Thanks so much for that. You really made my day.”
Slowly entering the train, a tired older homeless man politely apologizes for interrupting the passengers’ time and only wishes that they will take a couple of minutes out of their morning to listen to a song that he would like to share with them. Not expecting much of an audience as he scans the car to spot anyone who might be slightly interested in listening to him, he closes his eyes, clears his throat and sighs deeply as he prepares to sing. “Amazing grace how sweet the sound” slips from his lips in a low, mellow, and harmonious tone. Taking a few passengers by surprise with his amazing voice, he quickly
gains confidence as he notices people in the car stopping to listen to him sing. As he ends his song with a huge smile on his face, he says “I am not looking for money, I just wanted to share with you the only thing I have left to depend on, my voice.” As he proceeds to walk off the train, a nicely dressed middle aged gentleman walks over to him and hands him a five dollar bill and says, “Thanks so much for that. You really made my day.”
Dental Hygiene.
By Dominique Turek
There was an unusual noise coming from inside the second car of the One train, a pick-pick-picking noise. It was coming from a trendy couple. The man and woman were working as a team to dislodge a piece of food from in between the woman’s teeth. Glares and grimaces from onlookers were not enough to discourage the man from picking away at his girlfriend’s teeth with a grimy New York subway card. After stuffing her hands under the armpits of her blue and white striped blouse during a fit of uncomfortable laughter, her boyfriend exclaimed, “I’ve got it!” Examining the small morsel of food through his thick black-rimmed glasses, the man beamed at the success of his excavation. His girlfriend gave him a congratulatory kiss, which turned into a congratulatory make-out session, which turned into some congratulatory groping, reminding passengers to, among other things, check their teeth.
Number Game.
By Dominique Turek
A panicked passenger heading north on the One train invited anyone in an arms length to join her in hysterics. “I need directions!” she exclaimed, swinging her luggage in whichever direction her body jerked. An elderly woman, sensing the commotion, slid off her ear muff-sized headphones and motioned to the girl. She said, “Come here, I’ve got a trick to show you.” Eagerly, the girl pushed through the crowded subway car, leaving behind her a path of jaded New Yorkers. Smoothing her velvet jumpsuit, the old woman said, “In Riverdale, if you put the number two in front of an address, you’ll get the street. For example, if you’re going to 56 Riverdale Ave, put a two in front of the address and you’ll get 256th street.” With no mention of where she was going, and no mention of where she was from, the young girl bounced back to her seat, anxiety replaced by assuredness. The old woman slid her headphones back on and closed her eyes, oblivious to the once jaded New Yorkers now also committing her trick to memory.
By Dominique Turek
By Dominique Turek
Predator vs. Prey.
Stumbling onto the first car of the one train a disheveled, older man glared at a female passenger just a few feet from him. He proceeded to sit on the seventies-esque yellow and orange colored seats shaking his Burger King bag in one hand. As the subway doors closed ready to head downtown, a slew of grumbled curse words came from his direction. He was now the center of attention on this afternoon trip to Manhattan. Some people got up and left the car, other people just ignored him, but many stared with curiosity. As a Horace Mann high school student left the car moving to the next, the man screamed, “YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE!” Immediately more people moved to the next car, driving the older man into hysteria. The female passenger scooted down a few seats after another gentleman advised her that she should leave because now the man was yelling at her, “YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE LITTLE GIRL!” She got up and slid a few seats down, enough to put at least ten feet between her and the lunatic. What she didn’t realize though, was that her advisee also moved closer, keeping close tabs on her whereabouts. The train squeaked past Dykman and twenty minutes later at the Times Square stop the chaos persisted. The man’s banter carried on and her advisee could not keep his wandering eyes off of her. In a city of deception, the female passenger was faced with the difficult challenge of keeping one eye on her predator and one eye on her protector.
By Lauren Callahan
When Enough Is Enough
Early morning traveling back to Riverdale after a vicious night of mayhem in the city, one does not want to be bothered. Most prefer to escape reality by tuning the world out and plugging in. Others choose to bury their faces in books or rest their heads and let the train carry them to their destination. This weekend however, it was not a shocker for the helpless victims aboard the cart with a homeless man screaming on his cell phone to be interrupted. How does this even make sense? How can you afford a phone, yet expect me to donate my last five dollars? I’d rather buy a big mac and eat in your face.
The torture of hearing this man complain lasted for nearly twenty minutes thanks to the wonderful MTA and their pointless train delays. The situation couldn’t get any worse. For the people aboard, it was like having a knife piercing ears. We did not care that your friend Jim doesn’t know how to get to Riverdale and is lost in New Jersey. All we want is silence. All we want is respect. Is that too much to ask for? Maybe it is the inner New Yorker in us that defies moments like this. Or maybe this dude just needs to shut up.
By TK Breuer
Early morning traveling back to Riverdale after a vicious night of mayhem in the city, one does not want to be bothered. Most prefer to escape reality by tuning the world out and plugging in. Others choose to bury their faces in books or rest their heads and let the train carry them to their destination. This weekend however, it was not a shocker for the helpless victims aboard the cart with a homeless man screaming on his cell phone to be interrupted. How does this even make sense? How can you afford a phone, yet expect me to donate my last five dollars? I’d rather buy a big mac and eat in your face.
The torture of hearing this man complain lasted for nearly twenty minutes thanks to the wonderful MTA and their pointless train delays. The situation couldn’t get any worse. For the people aboard, it was like having a knife piercing ears. We did not care that your friend Jim doesn’t know how to get to Riverdale and is lost in New Jersey. All we want is silence. All we want is respect. Is that too much to ask for? Maybe it is the inner New Yorker in us that defies moments like this. Or maybe this dude just needs to shut up.
By TK Breuer