The ghost train and other entertainments

H The city is a completely different experience in the early morning. It's a completely different experience every morning, but The Committee for Keeping Things Interesting down at the offices of the MTA must been reading Stephen King this past weekend. Twice since Monday morning (more on that in a moment) a completely empty train has arrived at my stop . Now at five in the morning you would expect a lot of emptiness, but this was a different empty. This train had it's lights off. You couldn't see into the cars. It was as if the longest stretch limo in the universe had just pulled up to the curb,

''Is that who I think it is?'' said a woman to her male friend one night in front of the Booth Theatre. There was a white limo in front of them at the curb, it's windows deeply blacked out.
"That's the good thing about black windows, "he replied,"You can imagine it to be anyone."

Meanwhile, back at my stop I was imagining that it was the Chinese army. I was alone on the platform, they could take it, but I would make it a fight. What a perfect way to invade the city. You get your troops to Yonkers and then march down to 207th street for the A, maybe put the rest on the number 1, it's just a couple of blocks over. You keep the lights shut off so nobody sees the Chinese Army invading the city until they get off at Penn Station. The problem is there are a lot of stairs to maneuver through at Penn Station. You've got to go down a set to get to the passageway and then climb a set to get to the actual station or out onto Eighth Ave. They should have gotten off at 42th Street and taken a cab to Times Square. That's where they'd want to go in the early morning, weary few pedestrians and beautiful lights.


The lights came on revealing it was nobody. No one at all. The train sat there, it gave a little wheeze, and sat there some more, then someone found it's asthma inhaler and it moved on south sounding a bit hollow. That was amusing said someone down at the Committee to Keep Things Interesting.

So was Monday's train. They usually just screw with the trains on the weekends in order to confuse the tourists. "All A trains will be running express to 207th Street, {unintelligible inaudible sounds}is no C local service, for local service take the Express A which will be running local. Or Loco. For local service between 59th and 125th Street, take the B train. (which hasn't been spotted since Jimmy Hoffa disappeared.) or the D which will {unintelligible inaudible sounds} until 5AM." Screwing with the trains during the Monday is dangerous for the MTA because, well, because there are so many of us and fewer of them and we can be the Chinese Army if we have to be.

So when the train pulled into the station on Monday, empty, and did I mention that the platform was loaded with lots of people who had been waiting and waiting for a train,(During rush hour, waiting and waiting is defined as anything longer than one song on your Ipod.)and it stopped but the doors did not open, were they just trying to mess with us? Yes. So several people discussed the matter with the conductor who had lowered his window like a dope. And he opened the doors. We all got on. The doors stayed open. The train did not move.

There was a crackle and a voice, probably the dope, said "Sorry, folks this train has to go directly to 14th Street. This train was not supposed to take on passengers here. Please get off. This train is going directly to 14th Street." Nobody moved. I didn't move I was GOING to 14th Street.

I wasn't in the conductor's car, but I imagine there was some more discussion. We waited and waited, about half a song or more. The doors stayed open. "This train is out of service" the dope tried, "No passengers. All passengers must exit the train."
I didn't move but a lot of more obedient people did. They got off. Soon there was only me and about six others. "Everyone going to 14th Street?" I asked. "Oh yeah,"they said. We sat there. I read the New York Times Dear Diary.

The doors shut and the train started going. It was like your best dream, friends, there was plenty of room and the train was skipping every stop along the way. As a special treat, it went through the stations just slow enough so we could see the looks on people's faces as we zoomed by.

At 14th Street, we stopped. All of us got out of our private limo and went to work.

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That's not what really happened. What really happened was that the trains were cancelled due to a power outage and I had to run up St. Nicholas Ave at 126th Street to catch a gypsy cab which took me and another abandoned passenger all the way to 23rd and Third for about Thirty-Five Bucks. It was a lovely ride through Central Park and the environs of Lexington Ave which is where I am going now for my Sunday run.