Having been sick the last few days, I’ve spent my time at home finding increasingly elaborate ways to procrastinate and not do any work. Hell, I just purchased a juicer online because, well, why not? As a result of my voluntary housebound status I figured I ought to cook my own dinner last night as opposed to going out, which is certainly a novel concept and one that I’ll have to start putting back into my repertoire once the snow begins to fall on the city (SNOW!) and going out for impromptu Chinese food becomes less desirable.
As I was cooking I had the TV on to an old rerun of Seinfeld. Nothing out of the ordinary there since between the 1,998 channels on my apartment’s cable network (that’s not a joke) there’s always at least one channel airing Seinfeld, Friends, The Golden Girls (I still have my Golden Girls car sun shade), or Roseanne and that’s like waving a fist full of a cash in front of me and telling me not to grab it.The famous ‘Subway’ episode that originally aired in January 1992 was already funny, but now that I’m so familiar with the system it’s ever better. 20 years later and the experience hasn’t changed all that much. Well, except now the train carriages are cleaner and you’re less likely to come across a nudist on your travels. But, hey, stranger things have most definitely happened.
The centrepiece of the episode is that of Elaine, played by Julia Louis-Dreyfus, who finds herself stuck in an unmoving, crowded subway car on her way to a wedding (a lesbian wedding at that – Seinfeld: ahead of the times as always). As each of the four unlikable and yet disturbingly relatable characters endures their own peculiar subway experience, Elaine experiences what I call The Five Stages of Subway Grief. They go something like this:
Disappointment:
“Aw man, we’re stopping? Oh this is great, this is just what I need. Okay, take it easy, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably rats on the track. They’re stopping for rats.”
Anyone who’s used to the New York subway knows trains stop and start on a whim. The initial disappointment is rapid as they’re usually only stopped momentarily. Anything longer than a minute is when the second stage kicks in.
Paranoia and Claustrophobia:
“God, it’s so crowded. How could there be so many people? What’s that? I feel something rubbing against me?”
It’s like an itch. You start to think something terrible must have happened. If you’ve been unlucky enough to find yourself on a carriage that isn’t air-conditioned then the stuffiness begins too much to bear and the other people on there are in on it. Didn’t The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 start this way?
Just Plain Mean:
“This guy really smells. Doesn’t anyone use deodorant in the city? What is so hard? You take the cap off and you roll it on. … These are disgusting animals, these people should be in a cage. We are in a cage. … It’s a nightmare! Help me. MOVE IT!”
People are the worst. Being stuck on the subway just makes these sentiments stronger.
Pleading for Mercy:
“What could go wrong with a train? It’s on tracks! There’s no traffic, how could a train get stuck? Step on the gas! What could it be? You’d think the conductor could explain it to us: ‘I’m sorry there’s a delay, we’ll be moving in five minutes.’ I wanna hear a voice – what’s that on my leg?!? … I’ll never get out of here. What if I’m here for the rest of my life? Maybe I’ll get out in five seconds. One banana two banana three banana four banana five banana… ugh, I’m still here!”
It’s rooted in selfishness and inevitably leads to self-doubt. “Why am I stranded? If only I’d left five minutes earlier”, without the realisation that you’d still be stuck, but on the earlier train.
Success:
“When will they start moving? Move! MOVE!! MOOOVE! It’s moving! It’s moving! Yes, yes!”
I mean it has to happen eventually, right? The light of day has to return at some point. Of course, inevitably, just like for Elaine, the train comes to a screeching halt again mere seconds later. It’s the circle of life. Still, it’s better here than it ever was in Melbourne. I’ll never stop prattling on about how amazing it is to have 24-hour public transportation and a frequency of trains that leaves Melbourne’s Metro system in the dust. Meanwhile, Australian governments continue their slavish devotion to roads and tolls with train-users getting taken for a metaphorical ride. Same as it ever was, really.
