Crowded No. 2 train, between Times Square and 72nd St. I had snagged a seat when I got on at Wall Street by snaking my way through the crowd (no longer relying only on the kindness of strangers). A mother boards carrying her 16-month-old son. No one gives her a seat because people are lousy. I should have offered her mine, maybe that would have shamed someone into giving theirs up – didn’t think of that, but maybe next time.
The boy is an adorable cherub and he’s reaching up for the bar overhead that mama is hanging on to. She hoists him up so he could grab on with both hands, and clearly, this subway ride is now on par with Disneyland in his mind. He’s grinning and just looks so pleased with himself.
“His first time on the subway,” mom explains. I smile up at the baby and give him my best, “Wow, you are up so high!” impressed expression, which makes him giggle and grin even more. So much so, in fact, that a little drop of drool comes sliding out of his mouth and rains down onto my lap. Luckily, I saw it coming and strategically placed my pocketbook to take the hit.
“He’s spitting!” cries one alarmed lady sitting next to me, causing the mother to adjust her hold and apologize profusely.
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure the mother, moving my purse to point to my belly. “I’ll have to learn to deal with drool soon enough.”
After all, of all the bodily fluids I worry about on the subway, a little baby drool isn’t so bad.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28: Sweltering train platform at 72 St., packed train. Middle-aged black woman gives me her seat. I feel a little guilty when the train gets stopped before Times Square and she has to stand there for 5-10 minutes before her stop. But not guilty enough to give the seat back.
Wednesday, July 29: Again with the heat, again with the crowded train at 72. Woman in her 20s-30s of indeterminate race -- olive skin, could be black/white/Hispanic/Indian/Italian/etc. gives up her seat.
Thursday, July 30: Still so hot. One train is so packed I can't even get on. Second train has room, but no seats. I stand in front of a row of three seemingly able-bodied men, all of whom stay seated. Black woman in her 20s gives up her seat for me. I practically have to crawl over the lap of one of the seated men to get to it. I try to invade his personal space a bit when I sit. Of course, maybe that's what he wanted!
Wednesday, July 29: Again with the heat, again with the crowded train at 72. Woman in her 20s-30s of indeterminate race -- olive skin, could be black/white/Hispanic/Indian/Italian/etc. gives up her seat.
Thursday, July 30: Still so hot. One train is so packed I can't even get on. Second train has room, but no seats. I stand in front of a row of three seemingly able-bodied men, all of whom stay seated. Black woman in her 20s gives up her seat for me. I practically have to crawl over the lap of one of the seated men to get to it. I try to invade his personal space a bit when I sit. Of course, maybe that's what he wanted!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Sorry, I didn't hear you standing there
July 2: 72nd St., crowded 2 train. I'm wearing my maternity dress, the one that makes me look REALLY pregnant. Stand in front of two people -- black guy in his 20s, woman of indeterminate ethnic background in her 30s, both of able body. Both listening to iPods, both surreptitiously eye my belly, neither one gets up. Hey -- just because you can't HEAR me doesn't mean you can't SEE me. Last time I checked, iPods don't cause blindness, folks.
I should say, at this point in the experiment, it's pretty much academic curiosity. Who will get up? Who will stay seated? I'm perfectly capable of standing, but it's just nice to be offered a seat when you're obviously pregnant. If at some point in the future I am in actual pregnancy-related discomfort, I will be more proactive and ask people for their seats. Which sounds kind of embarrassing. But I guess being a parent sometimes means embarrassing yourself in public, so maybe it'll be good practice.
I should say, at this point in the experiment, it's pretty much academic curiosity. Who will get up? Who will stay seated? I'm perfectly capable of standing, but it's just nice to be offered a seat when you're obviously pregnant. If at some point in the future I am in actual pregnancy-related discomfort, I will be more proactive and ask people for their seats. Which sounds kind of embarrassing. But I guess being a parent sometimes means embarrassing yourself in public, so maybe it'll be good practice.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Subway Adventures
Someone offered me their subway seat for the first time this week! I'm 23 weeks pregnant (that's about 5 months, for those of you not immersed in the strange algebra of pregnancy), and I've been waiting eagerly for this day. I credit the improving weather as much as my expanding stomach -- with my coat off, it's quite clear now that I'm pregnant. Of course, what my fellow subway riders choose to do with this information is entirely up to them.
As a newcomer to New York, I'm fascinated by the unwritten etiquette rules of subway behavior. Giving up your seat to a pregnant woman is pretty basic courtesy on any public transportation. Of course, basic courtesy isn't always so basic for a lot of people.
So I've decided to keep a log of who gives up their seat for me, in the hopes of drawing wildly speculative, subjective conclusions from a small sample of data. What's the use of scientific observation if it can't be exploited for cheap dinner party conversation? With that lofty goal in mind, I bring you my subway chronicles.
June 29: 3 train, 72nd St. Black dude in his 20s, dressed in light green maintenance-worker jumpsuit, immediately stands and gestures for me to take his seat. I thank him profusely.
June 30: Very crowded 3 train, 72nd St. White guy in "Assistant To The Regional Manager" outfit keeps reading his US Weekly as I stand in front of him. My pregnant belly pokes into his "Stars: They're Just Like Us!" reading as the train sways. He doesn't look up. Hey, white guy sitting down: Douchebags! They're Just Like You!
July 1: 2 train, 72nd St. Crowded. A black man, probably in his 40s or 50s, wearing a conservative suit, leans over and taps me on the arm to give me his seat. Why thank you sir.
As a newcomer to New York, I'm fascinated by the unwritten etiquette rules of subway behavior. Giving up your seat to a pregnant woman is pretty basic courtesy on any public transportation. Of course, basic courtesy isn't always so basic for a lot of people.
So I've decided to keep a log of who gives up their seat for me, in the hopes of drawing wildly speculative, subjective conclusions from a small sample of data. What's the use of scientific observation if it can't be exploited for cheap dinner party conversation? With that lofty goal in mind, I bring you my subway chronicles.
June 29: 3 train, 72nd St. Black dude in his 20s, dressed in light green maintenance-worker jumpsuit, immediately stands and gestures for me to take his seat. I thank him profusely.
June 30: Very crowded 3 train, 72nd St. White guy in "Assistant To The Regional Manager" outfit keeps reading his US Weekly as I stand in front of him. My pregnant belly pokes into his "Stars: They're Just Like Us!" reading as the train sways. He doesn't look up. Hey, white guy sitting down: Douchebags! They're Just Like You!
July 1: 2 train, 72nd St. Crowded. A black man, probably in his 40s or 50s, wearing a conservative suit, leans over and taps me on the arm to give me his seat. Why thank you sir.
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