Subway Jinx

My subway jinx seems, knock on wood to have lifted, but Tuesday was a rough day.

Everything was going fine until I got to the 231st St. station in the Bronx. I'd just finished a tutoring appointment and was headed down to 86th to meet Ed for dinner. After waiting a few minutes, there was an announcement that there were signal problems at 42nd Street (Times Square) and, as a result, there would be no 1 trains between 96th and Chambers, which is basically all of Manhattan. Blast. I conferred with the woman in the ticket booth, and she said that things would probably be cleared up by the time I got to 96th, but that, to be safe, I should probably transfer to the A train at 168th. This was good advice, and it was my plan as I boarded the train.

In the north, the 1 train stays above ground for a few stops before going underground, where it remains for the length of Manhattan. It's a good thing I was above ground, because once I was seated, we just sat. The driver came onto the intercom to make his apologies, and we sat some more. The doors finally closed and we went slowly to the next station, where the doors opened and we sat again to the sound of further apologies from the driver. The third time this happened, I texted Ed and called the restaurant to move everything back 15 minutes. Then it happened a fourth time and then we were underground, which meant no more phone calls. At this point about 20 minutes had gone by and we were still in the Bronx. And then, to everyone's vast relief, the train started to move normally. Relieved, I settled in to read my book. 168th came and went, but I stayed on the 1 because things seemed to be going fine. This lasted about five more minutes. At 137th St., however, the train ground to a halt and the driver informed everyone that this was the last stop the train would be making. Period. We were rudely ejected and sent on our way. The signs that tell you want time the next train will arrive weren't working, and at this rate I figured it could be quite a while. I left the station and tried to flag a cab while I listened to local crackheads hurling inventive slurs at each other on a nearby street corner.

The cab got me to the restaurant just in the nick of time, so all was well. As I was regaling Ed with my story, he told me that he'd been a few minutes late because of train issues too. Apparently, at 59th St., the A train stopped and did not start again. Moments later, the conductor announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are being held at the station while two people in the back of the train fight." Moments, later, several policeman streaked by Ed's car, headed towards towards melee in the back. Ed said he didn't see anything interesting, however, and the train took off again a few minutes later.

After a huge dinner and half a bottle of wine, I was pretty sleepy and boarded the train looking forward to bed. Alas, no such luck. I have no idea what was going on (the conductors never tell you when it's something juicy), but what should have been a 15-minute ride home stretched into an hour. We stopped at every station. And were stuck at one station for about 20 minutes while policemen stalked up and down the cars. The train ended up resuming normal speed at last, but for some reason the conductor decided that it should run express and blew past my stop, ending up about ten blocks farther than I'd have liked. At that point, however, I would have walked to Brooklyn. I staggered to bed and slept like a rock. Public transportation is great except when it isn't.