There's a rat. The intercom woman speaks: "The next stop is 47th–50th Streets, Rockefeller Center." The rat is walking in your direction. The train across the platform—other way—is about to leave. "Stand clear of the closing doors, please." The rat is trotting like a wolf. A loud clattering sound: A suitcase down the stairs? Repairs? The rat doesn't care. The rat is galloping. The rat is here. The rat bites. Get off my subway platform, human. Your time is over.
Do you remember where you were this morning, starting at 9:36? Are you sure? Think carefully. Put yourself back there, and try to interact with your environment. Is it just you, or does something not add up? You can remember the people, certainly. But can you remember their faces? The ride passed, it must have, but did it happen?
You got to work—you can recall closing the door to your home, and opening the door to your office—but what happened on the way? Your memory is like a hard dial that refuses to sit in the middle notch. Before, click, fine. After, snap, ok. But the middle is [...]
New Yorkers are as entitled to complain about the subway to one another as they are obligated to defend it to everyone else. Both activities sustain us sufficiently to endure the reality of the subway, which is not very good at all: The NYPIRG Straphangers Campaign today released its third annual analysis of thousands of MTA “electronic alerts.” It showed that the number of alerts of delay-generating incidents had increased by 35% in two years – from 2,967 alerts in 2011 to 3,998 in 2013.
“The increase in alerts is a troubling sign that subway service is deteriorating," said Gene Russianoff, staff attorney for the NYPIRG…