The train doors open, and I turn around, running straight toward the car while yelling at Orion to follow me. We squeeze in right as the doors close. If I had space to jump and pump my fist, I would. I’m so empowered by Orion’s words. Before I can thank him I smell something horrible. I look around to identify the source when I realize why it’s so crowded. Everyone is cramming together on this side of the car because at the other end is a massive pile of vomit, probably courtesy of someone who got sick from Death-Cast partying. I’m immediately nauseated, and my appetite has been killed. I hold my gray shirt to my nose, breathing in the Hugo Boss cologne I spritzed on it back in Arizona that smells like plums and citrus.
“Welcome to New York,” Orion says with a smile before hiding behind his nose inside the hoodie.
This is not an experience I was particularly interested in having.
Unfortunately, the train is running express and holding us hostage for several stops, so when the doors open at Sixty-Eighth Street, we get out and switch cars. Orion wants distance from the overflow going directly into the next car, so we jog down the platform and hop back on the train before the doors close. This time we’re able to sit, our backs to a map of New York with blue, red, green, orange, yellow, purple, brown, and gray lines that each represent a different path.
“We’re on the green line,” Orion says, tracing where we started and down to Union Square. “And here’s where we’re getting out.”
I gesture at the map. “Do you think I could travel all of this in one day?”
“I don’t know, but honestly, why would you? The trains are mad gross. That hellhole we just escaped from is not rare.”
“I originally dreamt about visiting every corner of New York. At least by riding the train I could say I passed through them.”
“But the best parts of New York are out on the streets.”
“Like when I got shot at?”
“Like when you got shot at!”
“Terrifying.”
“Fucking terrifying.”
I hope they catch that guy.
Minutes later, the train stops at Forty-Second Street, close to Times Square, where everything changed. The doors remain open too long, and I shudder thinking that man in the skull mask could be any of these passengers filing in. He could think I recognize his eyes and need to finish this job. Choosing to embrace possibilities like this by not retreating home doesn’t make things less terrifying, but all I can do is hope for the best today.
As we’re approaching Union Square, I look up and down the car. People are holding on to the poles while reading a newspaper or on their phone. Someone else is dozing off, their head snapping back upright as their chin touches their chest. Others are sitting quietly, traveling from A to B or even B back to A. But I really thought there would be some kind of show, like young people turning the train into a jungle gym as they swing around the poles and flip around while blasting music. We reach our stop, and before I step onto the platform, I wait one extra moment to see if a show is about to begin, but nothing.
“First thoughts on your first ride?” Orion asks as we climb the stairs.
“More ordinary than I thought. Where were all the dancers? Is it too early?”
“Nah, I’d see them on the train rides to school a lot of mornings. That really pissed off people. Maybe the usual performers were out doing their thing last night.” He squeezes my arm as we leave the station. “I bet you’ll catch a show on the way back.”
“Hopefully.”
I can’t imagine I would be heartbroken on my deathbed by not having seen people dancing on the train, but it’s one of those daily occurrences in New York I’ve been imagining for so long that it feels weird to not have been granted that instantly. Especially when time is so limited. It just shows that no matter what’s happening in your life, the world doesn’t only spin for you.