The morning Trek!
A look at the urban morning transit ritual.
Today, I shall take you on a trip some of us know all too well and have taken many times before, infact, a large percentage of us take each and every weekday morning. We shall run through the morning transit travel ritual, as we hit the station and get on the train. On our trip, our look at the daily morning trek, we shall see many things, from those possessing America’s great entrepreneurial spirit to the destitute and down on their luck, homeless. We shall walk through a place where people who have many reasons to rejoice cross paths with those who lives seem to have no hope at all.
We start our trip at a major metropolitan subway station, which one and in what city it doesn't really matter, all the experiences are relatively the same. As you first enter the station, down the stairs you go, braving its soiled, trash-laden stairwell, trying not to slip, trip, or fall and definitely, not to touch anything. And as you proceed, into the station, at the bottom of the stairs, you notice, stench first, a soiled dressed man, with cup in hand, saying, with his best destitute look on his face, “Spare some change for a poor man down on his luck.” You stand there for a second, mulling over giving him some spare change, YOU KNOW, being a good person and all, While, at the same time, in contrast, thinking, "Again, Another one." “He just wants money to get drunk.” Not sure of what use he would put your change to, you just walk away, not really knowing, if what you did was right or wrong. Doesn’t matter much now. You have a train to catch, So, on you go, taking a minute to sort out appropriate payment or locate your transit card (pass) with which to cover your train fare and get on to the subway platform, suddenly, you hear, the attention grabbing echoes, words, ringing in your ears, such as “POPCORN,” “PEANUTS,” “PRETZELS,” “SODA,” and notice the various vendors selling their snacks and many wares.
As you take your transit pass or fare payment in hand ready to pay your train fare, two boys whisk by you and hop over the turnstile. The transit worker in the booth yells “STOP,” but the boys continue on, laughing and chuckling, with, obvious, disrespect, acting, as if, they've just accomplish something big. A little flustered you take your transit pass or other means of payment and pay your fare and proceed to continue to the train platform, through the turnstile and off you go. Another work day, another reminder why you play the lottery. Continuing on, heading, down the corridor, onto platform, you notice a man with a Guitar, giving entertainment or at least what he thinks is entertainment for money, case open with offering from those who liked his play or at least felt sorry for him.
When you reached the platform, taking a moment to compose yourself and get acclimated to your surrounding, you notice the Graffiti and the many ads for such things as safe-sex, what to do if you’re a pregnant teen, alcohol, the latest movies, and see something say something reminders. Then, all of a sudden it hits you, that foul stench of stale, smelly piss, and from around the corner you hear the sound of a powerful rumbling monster and into view comes a rectangular, steel wheeled, Metal box, a sardine can on wheels, your train, getting ever closer, with each eruptive rumble. BIGGER AND BIGGER, as more into view, it come, until, finally, stopping at the platform at its designated spot. Its doors slowly open, the commuters getting off come out, and in, you walk, taking a seat, one not too soiled, hopefully, and off, you are with all your impatience, and anxiety, uncertainty, and fear, clutched, close to you.
You’re on your way, although, not quite ready to face another urban morning, with trepidation as to what the day at work might be like, and absolutely dreading tomorrow, because you’ll have to go through all of this, all over again. “Oh my God is this my life,” you think to yourself afraid to look directly at the person sitting across from you, dreading having to talk to anyone, just hoping that the train doesn't stall or breakdown, causing you to be late for work, Again. Late one more time, and there’s no telling what the boss might do. “Downtown, Business district.” You made it! You've successfully maneuvered through another urban morning, feels good doesn't it, but now, you actually have to go to work. I know I know, you're not quite where you want to be and your current job, well, sucks, but that’s life right now. Hey, you need the job - in this economy, you can't afford to be without one. Yeah, you do have to work all week, but the weekend it is all yours, So, have yourself some fun. You deserve it, for making it through all those dreaded urban mornings and those dreary days at work. Good morning, Good day, and Most of all, Have Yourself a Good Weekend!!!
