New York City Metblogs » Subway Letters

The Subway is Hell and now there’s a Metrocard for it

dhaval mehta — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 04:17:51 +0000

Next stop: hell

This Metrocard will lead you straight into Hades.

Probably the greatest piece of original art I’ve seen in a while. I can always relate to art that is humorous. It defies time and space.

I don’t think I need to give an explanation, here is what the artist, Matthew Foglia, had to say about it:

In Greek mythology, Hades (their version of the underworld), had 5 rivers; one of them being the Styx. Dead souls had to cross it once they left the realm of the living and the only way was on the boat of Charon. The ancient Greeks would put coins on the eyes of their dead so they could pay the boatman to ensure safe passage across the river, and that they would not be left behind.

Seeing as how we are a culture that hates having change in our pockets, I see the MTA expanding into the underworld. People die all the time, so it’s a good business venture.

There’s a special metrocard that you get when you die, and you swipe it at the ç˚ station. The Charon train pulls up, and off you go.

Stand clear of the closing doors, please. Nice. Here’s more of Matt’s work.

On the Subway, watch out and help out!

dhaval mehta — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 11:30:10 +0000

Two days back, my mom got on the subway as per usual and started listening to her iPod. Some lady apparently leaned in towards her constantly and she wasn’t asleep. Finally, she began feeling the lady poking her from the side as in to get her attention.

She was a complete stranger poking another one. She asked, “Is your company hiring? I’m looking for a job.”

My mom made her aware of the fact that her company had fired 22 people the week prior to and there were no jobs available. And the woman began telling her story of misery. Her husband had lost his job and there was not enough money to pay the bills and so forth.

This continued back and forth until the train ride ended.

–

Yesterday, 8:15 am, E train Union Tpke

I got on the train and was listening to the iPod. This was one of the newer E trains – the ones that look like the 6 and L trains – and it was jam packed. There was no room to move about and being only 5′5 I still had to opt to hang on to the handles right above me instead of to my sides.

There was a young couple chatting flirtatiously (even though it was professional) and though there was room I could not hang on in between them as my hand would distract their conversation.

Behind me, I was not aware of what was going on, but apparently my body may have touched another man’s body. This man was about 6′1 and ugly looking. All of a sudden through the melodious sound in my iPod I hear a cankerous growl

“So what! I don’t exist huh? I don’t exist huh?” he began wailing. “You could just push me right? I don’t exist huh?” And I signaled to him that I had my iPod on and also, I don’t speak during the mornings…I take a vow of noble silence. So, with a smile I pointed to my iPod and the crowd to signal that there were a lot of people on the train and it would be next to impossible for me to avoid any sort of touching.

Well, this got him angrier, “Take them off so you can hear me!!!!!!!” and then he did what I did not expect at all, he actually physically elbowed me.

Me being in noble silence – which is a semi-meditative state – I just smiled accepted and turned around. From Union Tpke to Lexington Ave. 53rd street, not a single person got off that E train, including that man and me.

Letters to the Subway – Episode Three

nyc_eric — Wed, 18 Apr 2007 16:30:00 +0000

Dear lady,
Sweet mother of god on toast.
I am as much a champion of hygiene as the next homo. Really. Cleanliness, godliness, that whole thing.
However, I’m also a good southern boy and we believe in propriety, as in not doing inappropriate things in public.
Like clipping your fingernails on the train.
I mean, kudos for being inventive enough to carry a clipper around on your keychain; after all, kerotin grows at alarming rates! You could leave home with stubby tips and go home with werewolf claws!
Still, I can’t help but think you didn’t think things through here. A.) it’s gross. B.) you chose to dump your “clippings” on the floor. I realize the subway cars are dirty but come on now! C.) it’s gross.
In the future, I’d suggest that, should you need to multitask nail clipping//nosehair trimming/eyebrow plucking in the future, try doing it while performing chores of a more private nature.
In private. Thanks.

Episode One
Episode Two

Subway Letters – Episode Two

nyc_eric — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 14:30:00 +0000

Dear Mr. Stinky pants,
I realize Spring has just, err, sprung. Summer – and all that sweat-making heat – is still a long time away. I would like to caution you against what you apparently decided was to be your co-riders’ winter of discontent by forgoing basic hygiene until the snow melted: we can smell you. From several feet away.
Now, you haven’t quite reached the epic proportions of Crazy Gristede’s Bag Foot Guy, but you’re getting there, and it’s clearly all because you eschewed both soap and deodorant through the lean winter months. Still, when I sat down next to you this morning, what wafted through the air was less reminiscent of a trip to the Yankee Candle Co. than a trip to Scores New York after 3 A.M.
Also, I’d like to caution you on one other point of etiquette. No man I have ever met in my life is such a tripod as you apparently were attempting to pass off. Further, the spread you were giving the seats offered plenty of opportunity for passersby to judge for themselves and you, sir, are no tripod. Close up shop, dear. And then wash that shop. Several times.
Your friends and co-riders on the subway will thank you.
(Subway Letters – Episode One)

[photo from Gothamist]

Subway Letters – Episode One

nyc_eric — Fri, 16 Feb 2007 15:30:00 +0000

Some letters to my subway friends. You know who you is.

Dear sir,
I am ever so sorry I got in your way on a crowded train. I realize that no one’s journey is as important as yours; yours is a life of importance while the rest of us on the train were merely extras in the Michael Bay film of your life.
Given this knowledge, I attempted to accommodate you. I took my backpack off and sat it on my feet so there would be extra space for you to keep your massive hiker’s pack on.
‘Twas the least I could do. And when you fell into me for the eight hundredth time and I elbowed you? That was completely accidental. I had no idea that reading the Wall Street Journal on the train using both hands instead of gripping a pole for balance was your God-given right. You are correct; my presence on the train was entirely to support you by being a pinball bumper. When I kicked you on my way out? Completely accidental. And the Voodoo hex I put on your sex life last night? Total joke.

Dear madam,
I realize some seats are clearly reserved…but why, oh why, when an entire row of seats is empty, do you feel the need to sit in the seat adjacent to me? I realize I might possibly be THE sex symbol of the millenium after Colin Farrell, but show some propriety! When next you see an entire row of empty seats on a subway, why not choose one of them? it’s not that I don’t appreciate your elbow or the delicious aroma of whatever it you cooked last night and, apparently, in which you subsequently bathed, it’s…just…well, people will talk.
[photo from MIT.EDU. *I realize it's a photo of Japan. Having lived there, I can tell you it is almost always that bad and does make New York crowds look positively pedestrian by comparison]