When I travel from Brooklyn to the Washington Square Park/NYU area, I use the B train at 7th Ave., and despite its location along Flatbush Ave. in between Park Slope and Prospect Heights, that station is a mess. It hasn’t been renovated in decades, and it features a shuttered staircase that leads to a blocked off mezzanine. By itself, the staircase would be nothing more than an eyesore, but a homeless man has taken up residence in the station. It is not clean.

On top of the odor of human waste that often permeates the station, I’ve seen — shall we say? — physical evidence of a station inhabitant, and on more than one occasion, I’ve had to complain to the MTA about the presence of human waste on the platform. I’ve also witnessed MTA workers dragging leaking trash bags up and down the stairs. Generally, it’s a mess, and it’s indicative of the lack of care seen in stations around the system.

Now, I understand that maintaining aging infrastructure takes a lot of money the MTA, the city and the state simply do not have right now. I understand that if the MTA had its druthers, every station would get a fresh coat of paint, a thorough cleaning and dirt-resistant surfaces. I also understand that we all want to win the lottery tomorrow. That said, the system is a mess.

Last week, Greg Mocker, everyone’s favorite hyperactive muckracking TV news reporter, decided to explore the MTA’s crumbling stations, and he’s started a regular segment of his portion of the Channel 11 news. In it, he fields reader suggestions for the worst station, and of course, more than one have suggested Chambers St. While last night he stood only atop the J/Z platform and didn’t venture into the once-grand cavern, his video clip is notable for other reasons. Peep it below as Mocker tries to figure out exactly what is on the station walls at 18th Ave. in Brooklyn.

Of course, this being a TV news clip, we have tune in tonight to find out the resolution of the lab tests, but as Mocker and his environmental analyst speculated during the clip, it’s likely that the black and green gunk pulled off the wall will be mold. This can hardly come as a surprise to anyone who’s spent more than a few minutes in some of the system’s subway stations, but that thought isn’t exactly a comforting one.

As Mocker details, the MTA’s approaches to station maintenance have been varied. For decades, the authority tried a State of Good Repair program that targeted only six stations or so per year. Now, they’re trying a component-based program that targets parts of stations that are falling apart — staircases, ceilings, you name it. Of course, they still don’t have a plan to paint every station. They still don’t have the manpower or money to keep the station clean. It will remain a mess.

I’ll check back in with the results of the lab test tomorrow. I’m not sure we’re going to want to know though what various things are waiting with us in our train stations. Meanwhile, as the MTA works to convince us that things are getting better underground, the visual and physical environment underground isn’t. How do you balance the tension between technological upgrades and infrastructure decay when dollars are tight anyway?

Riding the subway on a daily basis can often seem mundane. We board the same trains; we see the same people; we wait in the same spot on the same platform at the same time every morning. By and large, the subways fail to surprise, and when they do, the surprises generally come in the form of unwelcome delays or trains cars that are more crowded than usual. That’s just the way of things in the world of underground commuting.

Now and then, though, intrepid — or foolhardy — New Yorkers try to shake us from our routine. We hear about guerrilla art projects in abandoned stations or spot the Rebel Alliance on the 6 train. Every year, thousands of people ride the subways with no pants on. Some people find the performance art stunts entertaining; others are annoyed by them. Still, they continue.

In fact, recently, a Rockaway-bound L train played host to a clandestine dining experience while a troupe of Shakespeare actors have taken to performing in the subway. Melena Ryzik of The Times found herself eating on the L this past Sunday. She reports of boarding an empty train at 8th Avenue and finding it taken over by hungry and in-the-know straphangers. She writes:

Within moments, a car of the waiting train was transformed into a traveling bistro, complete with tables, linens, fine silverware and a bow-tied maître d’hôtel. “Is this your first time dining on the second car of the L train?” he asked, as guests filed in.

They had been lured by the promise of a clandestine dining experience. (“Please go to the North East Corner of 8th Ave and 14th St,” read the instructions e-mailed early that morning. “There will be a tall slender woman there with jet black hair who is holding an umbrella. Please just go up and introduce yourself. Her name is Michele and she is quite lovely, but no matter how hard you press she won’t tell you about the adventure you are going on.”)

The event was the work of several supper clubs, and the menu they devised was luxurious: caviar, foie gras and filet mignon, and for dessert, a pyramid of chocolate panna cotta, dusted with gold leaf. All of it was accessible with a MetroCard swipe (Michele handed out single-ride passes) and orchestrated with clockwork precision. The six-course extravaganza took only a half-hour.

It wasn’t rush hour, so seating was easy. The tables (lap-width black planks, with holes cut to fit water glasses) were tied to the subway railings with twine. Tucking in behind them felt something like being buckled into a roller coaster. At 1:30 p.m., a few minutes ahead of schedule, the train lurched off.

As the train proceeded east, passengers found themselves thrust into a meal while chefs from various restaurants boarded the L to serve their course. One rider had thoughts echoed by many. “I had this fantastic lunch,” Paul Smith, a CUNY professor said to The Times, “very exquisite. And then I thought, am I going to get arrested?”

The MTA did not seem to find the event all that charming though. “A dinner party on the L train?” Spokesman Charles Seaton said. “No. Subway trains are for riding, not for holding parties.”

If dinner on the trains isn’t your thing — after all, not everyone believes the subways are for dining — how about some Shakespeare instead? Jo Piazza of The Wall Street Journal met with two actors from Brooklyn who reenact Shakespeare on the subway. Paul Marino, 29 years old, and Fred Jones, 26, spend 20 hours a week, primarily on the N, R, J, M or Z trains, acting out scenes from “Macbeth,” “Romeo and Juliet” and “Hamlet,” among others.

So far the two, who are featured in the video above, have found audiences receptive, but drunk riders will harass them. The pair, who make a few bucks per performance, have even managed to finagle some dates with the women in their crowds. Perhaps all the world is truly a stage after all.