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Never Around When You Need One, Indeed
Mar. 24th, 2009 09:15 amIn general, I'm pleased that I don't have to take the 6 during the morning rush. It comes with reasonable frequency, and yet is always insanely packed; and people seem to be crankier than on most other lines. This morning, though, I was feeling lazy and not-out-in-cold so I did the E => 6 ('stead of the usual F and walk six blocks) (did I say lazy? I walked up the entire Stairway to Heaven at 51st St), and regretted it as soon as I squooshed my way into a car. And pity the poor fools at 59th, who wanted even more to get on, but lo, there was no room in the inn.
So in this atmosphere of mild gentility, it's unsurprising that Words are occasionally Had, and sometimes more than words. And thus in the mass exodus at 68th, at the foot of the stairway, did I come across an Asian guy and a Hispanic woman locked in MORTAL KOMBAT, or at least rasslin'. I came to the party too late to see the casus belli, but as I rounded the corner he pushed her away and to the ground, where I heard the *crack* of an iPod losing structural integrity. She came off the mat like a tornado and went for him, and he was nothing loth to go another round; another commuter stepped in and attempted to separate them, which almost worked (albeit with the requisite faces and finger-pointings over the peacemaker's shoulder), but as he went up the stairs she charged after him and caught him up near the top, whereat I, at the foot, had sudden visions of a Katamari snowballing down the steps at me. Happily they removed their discussion to the sub-platform above, where it resumed as a shouting match. Meantime during all this, people are shouting for cops, and I could see the woman in the ticket booth on the phone (and on the PA) trying to summon le gendarmerie.
Wherefore the subject line? For the last two weeks, there has almost always been at least two cops hanging out in the station, right up there. Sometimes they even have the ol' bag check table out. But when there's actually a need for them, not so much as a shiny brass button do you see. This is how cliches start, people.
So in this atmosphere of mild gentility, it's unsurprising that Words are occasionally Had, and sometimes more than words. And thus in the mass exodus at 68th, at the foot of the stairway, did I come across an Asian guy and a Hispanic woman locked in MORTAL KOMBAT, or at least rasslin'. I came to the party too late to see the casus belli, but as I rounded the corner he pushed her away and to the ground, where I heard the *crack* of an iPod losing structural integrity. She came off the mat like a tornado and went for him, and he was nothing loth to go another round; another commuter stepped in and attempted to separate them, which almost worked (albeit with the requisite faces and finger-pointings over the peacemaker's shoulder), but as he went up the stairs she charged after him and caught him up near the top, whereat I, at the foot, had sudden visions of a Katamari snowballing down the steps at me. Happily they removed their discussion to the sub-platform above, where it resumed as a shouting match. Meantime during all this, people are shouting for cops, and I could see the woman in the ticket booth on the phone (and on the PA) trying to summon le gendarmerie.
Wherefore the subject line? For the last two weeks, there has almost always been at least two cops hanging out in the station, right up there. Sometimes they even have the ol' bag check table out. But when there's actually a need for them, not so much as a shiny brass button do you see. This is how cliches start, people.
