Near misses
A man got his hand caught in the subway door during my commute home from work the other day, the way you do when you're thrusting your arm in, trying to stop the doors from sliding closed. But this man's hand was very stuck. He couldn't draw it back outside the car, and the doors weren't opening to let him slide in. The train sat in the station for a few seconds...and a few more seconds...and the man tugged on his hand and craned his neck down towards the conductor's car, because surely the conductor must see that his hand is caught? All eyes in our car were on this man, who, it suddenly became distinctly possible, might momentarily be dragged off before our eyes. Stop, I wanted to yell, someone's hand is caught! but I knew the conductor couldn't possibly hear me, so all I could do was draw in my breath.
Finally, after an eternity of seconds, the doors conceded and sprang open. The man staggered into the car. Five more commuters piled in behind him.
Riding home around 9PM tonight, the woman across from me was knitting an electric-blue something -- a scarf, it looked like. At 7th Avenue she stood up, setting her work and the ball of yarn in her tote bag, and walked to the train doors. As she walked, the ball of yarn toppled out of her bag and onto the floor, dangling by an electric-blue strand, but she didn't see it. She leaned out of the train doors to check the stop, and the ball trailed behind her -- and then it kept rolling right into the gap, the one you're supposed to mind when stepping off the train. She tried to fish it up by pulling the string, but the ball stayed down below. She tried again -- and now the train doors were about to close on the dangling string. I had a vision of the ball of yarn catching on something, of the force pulling her through the doors, of an arm being caught, a face smashed against the glass. All I could do was draw in my breath -- and the doors started to close, and she let the half-finished electric blue scarf fall from her hands beneath the tracks, joining the ball of yarn.
She walked back to her seat with a funny pout, the same one Sarah made when I told her this story. I know that expression; the one New Yorkers make that says "did anyone else witness this totally bizarre thing that just happened to me?" They had. We pouted with her.
"I'm so sorry," I said when I caught her eye. "Thank you," she said.
Finally, after an eternity of seconds, the doors conceded and sprang open. The man staggered into the car. Five more commuters piled in behind him.
Riding home around 9PM tonight, the woman across from me was knitting an electric-blue something -- a scarf, it looked like. At 7th Avenue she stood up, setting her work and the ball of yarn in her tote bag, and walked to the train doors. As she walked, the ball of yarn toppled out of her bag and onto the floor, dangling by an electric-blue strand, but she didn't see it. She leaned out of the train doors to check the stop, and the ball trailed behind her -- and then it kept rolling right into the gap, the one you're supposed to mind when stepping off the train. She tried to fish it up by pulling the string, but the ball stayed down below. She tried again -- and now the train doors were about to close on the dangling string. I had a vision of the ball of yarn catching on something, of the force pulling her through the doors, of an arm being caught, a face smashed against the glass. All I could do was draw in my breath -- and the doors started to close, and she let the half-finished electric blue scarf fall from her hands beneath the tracks, joining the ball of yarn.
She walked back to her seat with a funny pout, the same one Sarah made when I told her this story. I know that expression; the one New Yorkers make that says "did anyone else witness this totally bizarre thing that just happened to me?" They had. We pouted with her.
"I'm so sorry," I said when I caught her eye. "Thank you," she said.
posted by MTL at 11:00 PM
1 comments
