Friday . October 5 . 2001 . 11:19am Jamal and I went to see the Mingus Big Band down at Fez last night. They were pretty good, though, you know, at $18 per ticket with a two-drink minimum, they'd better be good, goddammit. At the end of the evening, at about 1:20am, I got on the A train at West 4th to head back uptown. I picked an empty seat by the door, pumped up my Walkman (I was listening to a new Teenybopper Mix that I had made from my thirteen year-old sister's CD collection) and settled in for the half-hour ride back up to Washington Heights as N*Sync squalled into my ear. While the subway was stopped at the 116th street station some time later, we heard heated male yelling from the next car. This was followed by a very loud popping noise. "But to lose all my senses / That is just so typically me" wailed Britney Spears in that weird growly car-motor-starting "singing" voice of hers. I popped one earphone out and tried to look through the window between cars to see if I could figure out what was going on. I was thinking that someone had a gun. Someone had been shot. Someone was going to shoot me in the crossfire. Oh man, I could be killed. Third-Year Medical Student Fatally Wounded While Listening to Bubblegum Pop, the headlines would scream. Then my imagination started to stray outward. Anthrax. Sarin gas. There was a terrorist bomb plot on the subway. They were planning to blow up the A train. Mercifully, at 2am, when the passenger load was low, but still, I was on the train now, wasn't I? I contemplated getting off the subway and hailing a cab, but common sense still dictated to me that walking through the streets of Harlem alone at 2 in the morning wasn't the best possible solution. Outside on the platform, three uniformed NYPD officers were walking languidly towards the subway car where all the unspecified action was taking place. They were each shaking up black spray-bottles of mace. As the officers walked out of view, there was an eerie silence. Passengers from my car were poking their heads out the door, walking out onto the platform, trying to see what was going on. Two teenage girls were giggling and clutching each other. One older man continued to stolidly read the sports page of the Post, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Ten minutes later, two of the officers walked back along the platform accompanied by another guy, either a plainclothes policeman or another passenger. They were all chatting in a seemingly friendly way, and the guy in streetclothes wasn't handcuffed or anything. Moments later, the conductor gave the command to "stand clear of the closing doors" and we were on our way uptown again. "Slam your body down and wind it all around / Slam you body down and jigga jig aaah" breathed Scary Spice through my earphones. I had no clue as to what had just happened. |
Friday . October 5 . 2001 . 11:19am Jamal and I went to see the Mingus Big Band down at Fez last night. They were pretty good, though, you know, at $18 per ticket with a two-drink minimum, they'd better be good, goddammit. At the end of the evening, at about 1:20am, I got on the A train at West 4th to head back uptown. I picked an empty seat by the door, pumped up my Walkman (I was listening to a new Teenybopper Mix that I had made from my thirteen year-old sister's CD collection) and settled in for the half-hour ride back up to Washington Heights as N*Sync squalled into my ear. While the subway was stopped at the 116th street station some time later, we heard heated male yelling from the next car. This was followed by a very loud popping noise. "But to lose all my senses / That is just so typically me" wailed Britney Spears in that weird growly car-motor-starting "singing" voice of hers. I popped one earphone out and tried to look through the window between cars to see if I could figure out what was going on. I was thinking that someone had a gun. Someone had been shot. Someone was going to shoot me in the crossfire. Oh man, I could be killed. Third-Year Medical Student Fatally Wounded While Listening to Bubblegum Pop, the headlines would scream. Then my imagination started to stray outward. Anthrax. Sarin gas. There was a terrorist bomb plot on the subway. They were planning to blow up the A train. Mercifully, at 2am, when the passenger load was low, but still, I was on the train now, wasn't I? I contemplated getting off the subway and hailing a cab, but common sense still dictated to me that walking through the streets of Harlem alone at 2 in the morning wasn't the best possible solution. Outside on the platform, three uniformed NYPD officers were walking languidly towards the subway car where all the unspecified action was taking place. They were each shaking up black spray-bottles of mace. As the officers walked out of view, there was an eerie silence. Passengers from my car were poking their heads out the door, walking out onto the platform, trying to see what was going on. Two teenage girls were giggling and clutching each other. One older man continued to stolidly read the sports page of the Post, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Ten minutes later, two of the officers walked back along the platform accompanied by another guy, either a plainclothes policeman or another passenger. They were all chatting in a seemingly friendly way, and the guy in streetclothes wasn't handcuffed or anything. Moments later, the conductor gave the command to "stand clear of the closing doors" and we were on our way uptown again. "Slam your body down and wind it all around / Slam you body down and jigga jig aaah" breathed Scary Spice through my earphones. I had no clue as to what had just happened. |
Early morning scenes from the A. |
