As wonderful and efficient as public transportation can be in New York City, the weekends on the MTA is- le blow. Let's paint the scene- lost, angry, and confused faces, lots of foot stomping, cramped trains, plasters of posters for alternative routes, arrows for shuttle buses, and people getting off from work, heading to work, heading to their own weekend fun. You'll hear- people sucking their teeth, angry groans, kids shouting, rumbling of the train tracks, and the conductor yelling over the screechy speaker at every stop to warn passengers of the fate of their ride, unless they choose something else. And if your train is not in service, well, it's like a hectic and fun scavenger hunt.
With the craziness, the chance of sparking up a conversation with someone on the train is incredibly high and very simple. That's exactly how I met Felipe.
The doors of the subway pulled open. I walked in and quickly plopped down on an empty bench. He came in after me and squinted above me to check the stops for the train. The bright colored computer screen winked back at him. He looked at me and pointed above me, "Is this train going to Queens Plaza? To the 7 train?"
I nodded, "Yes."
He shook his head, his short black hair swinging along. "These trains on weekends... no good. So confusing."
"Especially on weekends..."
"...Especially weekends!" He raised his arm and held onto the pole. He skin was summer brown, hands roughly wrinkled, strong nails cut short, and a little bit of dirt between his nails. His facial hair was vividly black, Van Dyke style. "And then they want to raise the price."
"...And charge a dollar for a new metro card!" I sank into my seat, "I mean, I guess it's good. They're going green." I smiled and gave him two thumbs up.
He softly chuckled and shook his head, "No bueno. Raise prices and service stays the same."
Felipe is from the beautiful islands of "Guatemala, Guatemala," where the "weather is always hot" and the "water is very blue." As much as he misses home, he loves New York City. He's been here for over 20 years now, working and living on the west side of Manhattan.
We were on the train heading towards Queens. With curiosity, I asked, "Where you headed?"
His eyes lit up. He turned to face me and with the brightest smile I've ever seen, "I am going to see the love of my life."
"Queensboro Plaza," the electronic sang over the intercom. We both got up, left the train and walked across the platform. We stepped through the open doors of the 7 train heading to Queens. I looked at him, unsure of where to sit.
'Should I sit next to him? Would it be creepy if I did?' Question after question ran through my head. And then a little voice said, 'Why not? It would be awkward if you didn't sit next to him and you're both on the SAME train.' I proudly choose the bright orange seat next to him.
We continued to chat about Guatamala, New York City and his job in construction. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I was currently seeking employment. His phone loudly started belching the Entertainer. With snail speed, he fumbled to get his ancient flip phone. He looked at the caller ID and nodded with excitement, "Hola?"
I twiddled my thumbs as he chatted away in Spanish. People around the train were looking at us with a surprised-are-you-really-talking-to-a-stranger face. He finally hung up and said, "Sorry, that was my daughter, Caroline." Caroline is currently in college, 19 years old, and living with her mother in Queens. The more he spoke about Caroline, the bright rays peeled away his lonely mask, his voice nurturing, filled with love. Caroline, his daughter, is the love of his life.
He placed his hand over his heart and choked, "She has my heart." I smiled, touched, thinking about my mother.
Felipe gave me his business card and got up for his stop. Before he got off the train, he looked at me and said, "Maybe he will help you find a job."
"What?" I asked, confused.
He pointed up to the ceiling, "God. He has helped me a lot. He will help you." And the Felipe vanished within the masses of passengers trying to find their way.
"Especially on weekends..."
"...Especially weekends!" He raised his arm and held onto the pole. He skin was summer brown, hands roughly wrinkled, strong nails cut short, and a little bit of dirt between his nails. His facial hair was vividly black, Van Dyke style. "And then they want to raise the price."
"...And charge a dollar for a new metro card!" I sank into my seat, "I mean, I guess it's good. They're going green." I smiled and gave him two thumbs up.
He softly chuckled and shook his head, "No bueno. Raise prices and service stays the same."
Felipe is from the beautiful islands of "Guatemala, Guatemala," where the "weather is always hot" and the "water is very blue." As much as he misses home, he loves New York City. He's been here for over 20 years now, working and living on the west side of Manhattan.
We were on the train heading towards Queens. With curiosity, I asked, "Where you headed?"
His eyes lit up. He turned to face me and with the brightest smile I've ever seen, "I am going to see the love of my life."
"Queensboro Plaza," the electronic sang over the intercom. We both got up, left the train and walked across the platform. We stepped through the open doors of the 7 train heading to Queens. I looked at him, unsure of where to sit.
'Should I sit next to him? Would it be creepy if I did?' Question after question ran through my head. And then a little voice said, 'Why not? It would be awkward if you didn't sit next to him and you're both on the SAME train.' I proudly choose the bright orange seat next to him.
We continued to chat about Guatamala, New York City and his job in construction. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I was currently seeking employment. His phone loudly started belching the Entertainer. With snail speed, he fumbled to get his ancient flip phone. He looked at the caller ID and nodded with excitement, "Hola?"
I twiddled my thumbs as he chatted away in Spanish. People around the train were looking at us with a surprised-are-you-really-talking-to-a-stranger face. He finally hung up and said, "Sorry, that was my daughter, Caroline." Caroline is currently in college, 19 years old, and living with her mother in Queens. The more he spoke about Caroline, the bright rays peeled away his lonely mask, his voice nurturing, filled with love. Caroline, his daughter, is the love of his life.
He placed his hand over his heart and choked, "She has my heart." I smiled, touched, thinking about my mother.
Felipe gave me his business card and got up for his stop. Before he got off the train, he looked at me and said, "Maybe he will help you find a job."
"What?" I asked, confused.
He pointed up to the ceiling, "God. He has helped me a lot. He will help you." And the Felipe vanished within the masses of passengers trying to find their way.
This really made me smile :) I love the idea of what you're doing and I'll be checking back daily.
ReplyDeleteThank you Melodie for all of your love and support :) Your comment made my day! Feel free to share any story you have with a friend you've recently met. It's a lot of fun!
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