- We are all beautiful flowers.
“You… are… wonderful.”
Thus spake the disembodied voice of the Brooklyn-bound A train conductor as I rode to work today. The voice, a woman’s, continued: “Thank you for riding my train this morning. The next stop is 59th Street… You are wonderful and don’t let anyone try to tell you otherwise.”
And with that, my morning-commute frown dissolved into a smile.
I’ve experienced other instances of subway conductors getting creative with their intercom privileges. It’s a novel and refreshing moment in an otherwise dismal commute. Sadly, the new trains being manufactured all have those automatic prerecorded announcements, which is nice because you can, you know, actually understand what’s being said… but on the other hand we’ll never hear anything like this again.
I’m going to assume everyone hates the subway as much as I do, for many of the same reasons: the pushing, the oblivious door blockers, the bench-hoggers, the screaming/cursing high school kids, the people eating nasty/stinky food which you’re forced to smell, the things you’re forced to smell in general, the drunks, the pervs, those guys who go on interminably about Jesus, and of course ever-present possibility of time-sucking service malfunctions. No matter my mood in the morning, after about 15 min of the MTA, I’m muttering expletives at people with baby strollers.
So, in the middle of all this, to suddenly hear the announcer tell you to have a good weekend (or even better, upbraid an annoying door holder) is one of the great small miracles of life in New York.
So, I salute you, aggravated, creative, funny and weird subway conductors. You will be missed, but until then, don’t stop talking.