I Miss The Subway And Other Surprises
Inspired by Mari Andrew who has been writing a weekly essay about things she misses and love notes to New York City, I decided to write my own version of things I miss. Even if you don’t live here or have never been, there are plenty of universal moments she speaks of, not just NYC focused and I can’t recommend following her work enough. This is her latest here .
Here is a list of things I am shocked that I miss but here we are.
I miss the subway. It’s strange to miss something I hate normally with a fiery passion. I miss complaining about it. I miss sweating on the platform and walking into an AC filled car. I miss reading on the subway and watching others read, catching the titles and marking them to remember later. Subway people watching is some of the best people watching and if I forget my headphones or a book, my favorite thing is making up lives for the other passengers. I invent relationships, backstories, tragedies and comedies. I miss watching kind strangers give up their seat for others or strike up a conversation, politely of course. I miss navigating a new route for planned, or unplanned, work or going with the last minute changes when a train changes lines or goes express and suddenly you’re 100 blocks from where you needed to be. I miss the smell which is the strangest of all. It varies from season to season but sometimes it smells like rain or snow or sunscreen if you are near Coney Island or Central Park in the summer. I miss exiting the stairs after a longer ride and having it be bright sun when before it was pouring rain.
I miss being caught in the rain without an umbrella. I am very good at this. If it looks like rain and I bring one, it won’t rain. If it is clear skies and I don’t bring one, it rains. I miss figuring out where I can duck in or what I can duck under when the sky opens up, often laughing with other strangers as they follow suit. Or sometimes we grumble together which is just as special in a way.
I miss killing time. Wandering the magazine aisle of a Duane Reade when I am far too early for something. Those stores are my go to. Otherwise, I wander the block. Sometimes I wonder if people sitting on stoops or in bars watch me and think why I’ve passed by them five times. I often discover new places when I kill time. Cute cafes, restaurants, shops, new places to pee.
I miss finding a place to pee. It’s a skill in the city. Yes, now you can go into a Starbucks supposedly to do so without purchasing something but there are those of us who have our pee spots. I have certain hotels, some McDonald’s that are not terrifyingly dirty, or the Times Square Marriott (the best, it’s on the second floor). Macy’s is also a life saver. But I miss when I am in a neighborhood that I don’t have my pee spot and I have to figure it out. It is a terrible time and fight against the clock but I miss that rush of finding one or sneaking in somewhere. A new pee spot! It always feels like a win.
I miss arguing about where we are going for brunch. You ask if anyone wants something specific. No one says anything. “Oh, I don’t care, anything is fine.” So you pick. Then someone doesn’t want tacos. Do they want pancakes? “Well, no. I mean, I don’t care.” But you did care, you said no to tacos. And this goes on for 45 minutes until you have to leave your apartment to meet them and someone has to choose the place and someone finally does and then you’re there and it’s good even if its not tacos because you can get tacos next weekend or even tomorrow if this is a Saturday brunch.
I miss trying to find a bar for another drink. It is the same scenario though there can be a twist. Perhaps the bar is too full or too loud. Maybe it has live music or a surprise DJ at 10pm. You walk around the block, someone has been to this other place but wait, where is it? Did it close? OH, it’s not here, it is actually 20 blocks up instead. Well, fuck, guys. Did we really want this last drink? But then you find a spot and have an incredible conversation to wrap up the night.
I miss riding the bus home late at night after one of the last drinks feeling the hangover already but grateful for the evening I spent whatever it had been.
I miss lines. I miss waiting in line for something, anything. It is frustrating and annoying and I am always inpatient but that feeling once you are inside wherever it is you are going is such a beautiful relief and all that excitement floods back over you. You forget about the line.
I miss challenges like breaking a sandal or heel or a bird pooping on you. A unexpected stain or you sat in the wrong chair and now have white paint across your ass. It’s a puzzle. Find the nearest bathroom, H&M, Payless. How much time do you have? Where is that Tide pen you always have until you actually need it?
I miss complaining. About ANYTHING. I love complaining. If you know me, you know I love it. How can I ever complain again? I mean, of course I can but truly it won’t be as fun as it once was. Being trapped inside from all the people and things I love I don’t see how I could ever get mad when someone wants pancakes instead of tacos.
I miss packing a suitcase. The pain of never knowing what to pack and should I bring a dressy outfit and how many shoes is too many and oh shit I have to pack it again but nothing fits. I miss airport anxiety and going through security, praying they don’t take my serum away because I checked the size eight times and I know I can fly with it. I miss turbulence. I miss squabbling with my husband over where the Disney Express is every single time we fly into Orlando even though we have taken it a million times. I miss expensive airport wine.
I miss my feet hurting from walking all day. I miss awkward sunburns. I miss bad auditions. I miss holding rooms for auditions and god, I never thought I’d say that. I miss bad theater in cramped black boxes. I miss crowds. I miss cold food at a restaurant.
I miss all these things because that meant I was out in the world living the life I was living. It isn’t surprising I miss them at all. We all miss our ‘normal’ life, don’t we? I miss my silly little life that I complained about constantly but looking at it under this lovely glass I’ve affectionately placed it under like a fragile flower, it isn’t what I thought it was. It is vibrate and bright and full of love and passion and laughter. It is also full of needing to pee and delayed buses and never knowing what I want for brunch and auditions that I walk out of and cry on the subway. It is full of life.
I don’t pretend to know what the world will be like as we slowly heal and come out of our hiding places. I hope we all do so with kindness, patience, and an appreciation for all the things we thought we hated and would be glad to do without. I know I will. Even if it several months down the road, I will laugh with pure happiness when I get that text about brunch and we can’t decide where we want to go. I’ll laugh because I get to go and because I love the people in that group text and because tacos or pancakes don’t actually matter. It is about being in the same room as those people, whoever they may be to you and if it is lunch or brunch or merely a quick hello.
It will mean we are together in the world again.
