View from Underground

I found myself on Monday afternoon at around 1:15 p.m. confronted with a daunting task. I had to walk from 50th St. between 6th and 7th Aves. to the corner of 44th St. and Broadway. I could skirt pedestrian traffic until 48th St. by using some of the midtown mid-block cut-throughs, but that still left me with three blocks on Broadway before the glorious pedestrian plaza began.

And so I readied myself for a mash of gawking tourists, slow-moving folks ambling through Times Square and workers on their lunch breaks scurrying to and fro. It was a mostly beautiful, disorganized, urban mess of pedestrians, and all was going well until those slow-moving folk became too much. At a certain point, I could have either shoved some people out of the way or come to a dead spot until the congestion cleared. It was then that the sidewalk rage set in.

The concept is a simple one, as Shirley Wang of the Wall Street Journal explored earlier this week. Behavioral scientists have discovered that pedestrians can suffer from the walking version of road rage. She writes:

Researchers say the concept of “sidewalk rage” is real. One scientist has even developed a Pedestrian Aggressiveness Syndrome Scale to map out how people express their fury. At its most extreme, sidewalk rage can signal a psychiatric condition known as “intermittent explosive disorder,” researchers say. On Facebook, there’s a group called “I Secretly Want to Punch Slow Walking People in the Back of the Head” that boasts nearly 15,000 members.

Some researchers are even studying the dynamics that trigger such rage and why some people remain calm in hopes of improving anger-management treatments and gaining insights into how emotions influence decision making, attention and self control…

Signs of a sidewalk rager include muttering or bumping into others; uncaringly hogging a walking lane; and acting in a hostile manner by staring, giving a “mean face” or approaching others too closely, says Leon James, a psychology professor at the University of Hawaii who studies pedestrian and driver aggression.

For the cool-headed, sidewalk rage may seem incomprehensible. After all, it seems simple enough to just go around the slow individual. Why then are some people, even those who greet other obstacles with equanimity, so infuriated by unhurried fellow pedestrians?

The article delves into the psychology of sidewalk strollers. The people who want to go faster get unnecessarily annoyed at those walking too slow, and while Wang and the scientists she spoke with seem to want to graft anger management issues on to everyone annoyed with someone moving slowly, I’ve always thought it’s a matter of human nature and selfishness.

We want to get where we’re going at our pace, and we expect walking to be orderly. Fast people on the left; slow people on the right. Don’t walk four across; don’t stop suddenly. It’s common decency. Yet, we don’t see aboveground, and we don’t see it underground.

Although Wang’s story focuses on the city’s streets, the findings in her piece are equally applicable underground. While walking from the lower level platforms at West 4th to the exit every day, I see disorder on the staircases. People who can barely mount the 16 steps hover on the left while other slow walkers climb up the right. Those wishing to leave with haste can fend for themselves in the middle or huff in the back. The drama plays out at every staircase and even on the climb to street level. Slower walkers do not adhere to the rule of the right.

It would be easy to generalize this behavior. Perhaps the selfishness of speed is why straphangers blast music out of leaky headphones, why they take up too many seats and why they litter throughout the subway. The researchers Wang speaks to suggest looking up and staying calm. That’s always good advice for a frustrating walk through the subway system too.

A group of norteno musicians serenade the 7 train. (Photo by flickr user ChrisGoldNY)

For many subway riders, the appearance of a Mexican band during a commute home may often be an unwelcome one. The music is loud; the panhandling aggressive. It’s a disruption to the privacy of a subway ride. Still, it’s easy to forget that these musicians are oftentimes poor immigrants looking to make a few bucks and exploit their skills.

Over the weekend, The Times ran an excellent profile of these musicians — properly known as norteños for the type of music they play — and I found the piece a fascinating glimpse into a world often unknown by most of us. Kirk Semple spoke with a variety of these norteños to draw up a picture of the bands. He writes:

The Metropolitan Transportation Authority’s rules of conduct include an array of regulations that could, and often do, snag the bands, including a prohibition on playing musical instruments on subway trains. Fines, often $75 each, are a regular part of the job, several musicians said. So is detention, often involving an overnight stay in jail and sometimes a punishment of community service, if rarely anything more severe than that. For those in the United States illegally, civil violations like those are usually not enough to prompt a check of immigration status.

But even though $75 is a good day’s earnings on the subway, the musicians seem to regard these penalties as tolerable occupational hazards. “Our babies have to eat something; we have to eat something,” Mr. Tigre, 41, who is divorced and has three American-born children, said with a shrug. “If I had a steady job, I wouldn’t play in the train.”

The groups’ growth has paralleled the rising number of Mexicans in New York and the surging popularity of norteño music. A decade ago, the musicians say, there were only a few norteño bands plying the subway system. By the estimates of several players, there are now at least 15, though nobody is sure of the exact number because the groups are continually forming, changing members and dissolving. Their paths usually cross only underground, in quick, joking encounters that allow them to swap gossip and information about police sightings.

The article delves into the ins and outs of navigating the system as well. Some bands play only on certain segments. One, for instance, avoids police by sticking to the B or D trains north of 125th Sts., and most musicians say they try to avoid the mid-afternoon when school kids “heckle and yell, push and shove.” Some adults too grow hostile and abusive toward the musicians.

It might be annoying to find these musicians in a subway car, and it might be illegal as well. But it’s annoying and illegal with a little bit of character. I’d take the norteños over a crazy preacher any day of the week.

Photo courtesy of Jeffrey Omura

Take a look at this pile of trash. SAS reader Jeffrey Omura spotted it on at the 157th Street station on the 1 train a few weeks ago, and he noticed that it never went anywhere. For approximately a week, this pile of garbage remained at the end of the platform, neglected by all but a pack of rats that settled in for the long haul. By the time it vanished, the scene had turned disgusting.

Perhaps, then, as we have explored who is to blame for subway rat infestations and as one politician has tried to ban food in the subways, we should also keep an eye on the MTA’s garbage-collection policies. I often see workers dragged ripped and leaking bags of trash across station platforms, and I’ve noticed garbage cans overflowing with refuse. Keeping stations clean should be everyone’s responsibility, and right now, no one is picking up the slack.

(Benjamin Kabak/Flickr)

Where: Above the stairway leading to the Rockefeller Center station complex on the southwest corner of 50th St. and 6th Ave.
What: The V train bullet, a remnant of the June service cuts, still lives while at this entrance, the M doesn’t stop here.
When: Monday, January 31, 2011, seven months after the V’s last run.

I’ve been interning twice a week in Midtown this semester, and the nearest entrance into and out of the Rockefeller Center complex is the on on the west side of 50th St. As I bounded down the staircase Wednesday evening, I saw a ghost — the V train lives. This Monday, I snapped a better picture of this rather ornate station entrance with our dearly departed V train bullet in all of its glory.

In a sense, this photo is all about nostalgia over lost train lines. While the name has changed — the M now runs on the V — the service pattern is actually better for the city. The rapidly expanding populations in Middle Village and South Williamsburg now have a direct route to midtown, and the new M train service over the Chrystie St. Cut has been a resounding success even as it represents a service cut along Brooklyn’s 4th Ave. and West End lines.

On the other hand, though, this photography is about the tension between the MTA and those private companies with which it contracts. For many entrances within buildings, the landlord is in charge of maintenance and upkeep. Those duties include updating fanciful signage, keeping escalators running and clearing the staircases of snow and ice. Yet, oftentimes, landlords don’t do what they must do. Entrances — such as the one at 52nd and 8th. Ave. — remain closed, and escalators remain closed forever, a fact to which anyone who uses Union Square can attest.

At Rockefeller Center, the system’s 14th busiest station and a tourist destination, this sign still says a train that hasn’t operated since June still stops there. Anyone expecting the V will be waiting a long time indeed.

Credit: Earl Wilson/The New York Times

It was quite cold in New York City this week. For more, click the picture.

Has it already been two weeks since our last rat-on-a-train video? My, how time flies.

Today’s special glimpse at a rodent on an R train comes to us via NYC The Blog. Paolo Mastrangelo writes that, this time, “Unlike the nonchalant passengers in the former video, these commuters responded appropriately—by screaming and jumping up on their seats.” The rat boarded at Wall St. and got off at the next stop, and for that, the passengers were thrilled. Anyway, take a glimpse. I got a chuckle out of watching the straphangers scurry away from the small rat, but I don’t blame them.

In discussing this video at Runnin’ Scared, Joe Coscarelli of The Village Voice wonders about the proliferation of rats on trains. Before, most rodents were content to seek food in the tracks or behind garbage storage areas. Lately, though, the rodents are more aggressive. “Is the infestation of our subway system getting worse,” he asks, “or is the prevalence of mobile recording devices just rising?” Either way, I’d rather take my chances with the pigeon I saw hopping around the 36th St. station in Brooklyn this afternoon than a rat on a subway car any day of the week.

It's easy to find a seat when all of them are empty. (Photo by flickr user bitchcakesny)

Finding a seat on the subway during rush hour can often seem like a fool’s errand. Some trains fill up so quickly and are so packed with people that it’s impossible to imagine a time where seats are plentiful and space bountiful. Yet, at other times, trains seem to carry an imbalance of people. The front is empty while the back is not or the middle has fewer people than the ends. Why?

In this week’s issue of Time Out New York, I help explore that question. The theme of the issue is 200 things you didn’t know about New York, and they include an extensive section on navigating the subways like a pro. I spoke with reporter Celia Shatzman, and we covered a variety of subway-based topics. I spoke on abandoned stations, tips for minimize wait times late at night and some subway etiquette no-no’s.

My favorite question though concerned the tried-and-true seat. What cars, asked Shatzman, tend to be emptier and what’s the best way to score a seat? David Holland from Transit Blogger, Tom Sibley of Subway Douchery fame and I gave the answer:

Know the flow of ridership patterns and locations. Benjamin Kabak is the blogger behind Second Avenue Sagas, which has tracked the progress of the Second Avenue subway and other transit news since 2006. He explains that because of the way entrances are staggered, back cars are less full. To get a seat, try to board at a major transfer point, where people tend to exit en masse. David Holland, who runs Transit Blogger, recommends looking for wear and tear on the edges of platforms, near the tracks—this allows you to guess where the doors will open, so you can swoop in quickly and grab a seat. “There are certain spots that will stand out, because [the doors on] each train open in practically the same spot every time,” he explains. “The repeated foot traffic will eventually leave marks.”And if all else fails? “Start coughing,” suggests comedian Tom Sibley, the guy behind Subway Douchery. “It makes people nervous. They’ll be too worried about getting whatever disease they are certain you have to grab the empty seat.”

Unfortunately, due to the demands of space, I couldn’t elaborate much on the differences between train lines and original systems, but something as simple as station design at one end of the train can impact the way trains load throughout the route. Take, for instance, the IND stations built after the IRT and BMT systems. The IND stations are three-block behemoths that make room for long cars with lots of room, but a design quirk means that trains fill up at the ends and not in the middle.

Placing entrances are opposite ends of a station can create passenger bunching on the platforms. Shown here is the IND's W. 4th St. station.

That quirk is one of convenience. Most — but not all — of the IND stations have entrances at the northern and southern ends of their platforms but not in between. At 14th St. on 6th Ave., for instance, passengers can enter at 16th St. or 14th St. At West 4th St., riders board at 3rd St. or closer to 8th St. At Bryant Park, passengers are funneled underground at one end of the park or the other. Thus, it’s possible to find more space, if not an errant seat or two, in the middle of the IND trains at certain stations.

Meanwhile, the designs of IRT and BMT stations seem to spread straphangers out through the natural flow. Take, for instance, a 1 train going south from 96th St. At the express stop there, the station entrances are at the extreme ends of the train, but at 86th and 79th Sts., the entrances are a few cars from the front. At 72nd St., with the new stationhouse, passengers can board at various points along the train, and 66th and 59th Sts. have multiple egress points at opposite ends of the platform. (For what it’s worth, the Phase 1 Second Ave. Subway stations will naturally push passengers to either the front or the back of the trains.)

Of course, this is a simplified look at the boarding process. Generally, people board their trains in the morning, as the popular mobile app Exit Strategy has noted, based upon where they have to get off. If the train isn’t there, straphangers will walk to the car closest to their exit even if seats are harder to come by. I know my B train is emptier at the front of the train, but I’d rather save the two minutes walking from the 7th Ave. entrance to the back car for my exit at West 4th St.

The trick then is to know the hot spots. I know that my train empties out at De Kalb Ave. as workers bound for the hospital there, Long Island University’s Brooklyn campus or Downtown Brooklyn head to work. If I’m quick, I can nab a seat, and if not, I can find space to move in the car. As veteran riders know, it’s all about the flow of passengers. If you ride long enough, you’ll find a seat, and you’ll know just when it’s going to open up.

What: A reopened passageway outside of fare control that connects the southbound 1 train at 50th St. and Broadway with the northbound C and E station at 50th St. and 8th Ave.
Where: This photo, snapped last week by NYC Transit Forums member R33WF, was taken from the 8th Ave. end of the tunnel.

Once upon a time, as I wrote last April, numerous passageways within the subway system provided for inter-station transfers. Most of these passageways were outside of the fare control area — meaning that the transfers weren’t free — and many were operated by building management companies and other private entities. After a spate of high-profile sexual assaults in the early 1990s, the police asked the MTA to shutter these passageways, and many were lost to time.

A few weeks ago, the Paramount Group Management Company decided to reopen the tunnel between Broadway and 8th Ave. on 50th St., according to the MTA. The passageway is now open from 6 a.m. – 7 p.m. during the week and is closed on Saturdays and Sundays. When it reopened, it still featured evidence of the dearly departed 9 train, giving us all a since of just how long it has been since passengers had walked through the tunnel. It’s good to see unused infrastructure being reactivated for the convenience of pedestrians looking to avoid the madhouse of Times Square.

On another note, I’m taking a light day of posting for Martin Luther King Day. I’ll be back tomorrow with a full slate of posts, including a post mortem on the MTA’s December 2010 blizzard response.

A woman fiddles with her all-too-ubiquitous iPod earbuds. (Photo by flickr user Ed Yourdon)

When thinking about the New York City subway, “quiet” isn’t the first word that comes to mind. Brakes squeal with friction, public address systems screech with feedback and heating systems drone on and on and on. Inside the car, sounds filters from all corners. Music leaks from poorly designed iPod headphones; cell phones blare. It isn’t loud, but it’s an annoying cacophony of noise.

But are the cars missing the right kind of noise? In a guest column in the Daily News, Alex Marshall of the RPA makes exactly that argument. The subways, he says, are not filled with the right kind of social noise. He writes of a time when people would talk to strangers and each other on subway cars. Today, we bury our noises in Kindles and hide behind headphones.

Picking up the thread from the brouhaha over the New Jersey Transit quiet cars, Marshall says an element of old New York is lost as people turn away from each other and toward technology. He presents what he calls a modest proposal: The Conversation Car.

In this train car (or bus section) one would be assured, upon entering, that fellow passengers are ready and willing to chat. Putting speakers against your ears or a screen in front of your face would earn frowns as severe as those now cast at someone who conducts a business call in a Quiet Car.

This would, first of all, help in some measure to restore the dying art of conversation – especially the spontaneous kind, when you haven’t already prepared your stock answers about all matters mundane. And it would also restore that measure of accidental contact for which New York is famous. After all, the person jammed next to you could be from Sweden. Or from Queens. Or a Swedish queen. But if you’re just zonked out on your iPhone, you’ll never know.

There will be some rules in my proposed Conversation Car: no insults (hard for some New Yorkers, I know), no overly aggressive come ons, no street preacher crazy talk. Just ordinary people enjoying incidental, temporary company instead of plugging in and tuning out.

A dose of conversation might just be the new, much-needed antidote to our solitary digital domains.

I have to wonder if the idea of spontaneous conversation on the subway is one of those overly sentimental appeals to a nostalgia that never happened. On very rare occasions have I struck up conversations with strangers in a subway train, and most people would rather be left alone as they ride home. For decades, most straphangers didn’t even feel safe enough making eye contact with others in their subway cars, and skeptical New Yorkers of a certain age still avoid staring in the subways.

Still, Marshall’s bigger point is one I’ve focused on over the years. There is a certain level of etiquette entirely missing from underground. Maybe if we talked to each other, we’d remember that our fellow riders are people like us too. It’s rude to assault a subway car with sounds for your personal MP3 player, and it’s rude to drop half-eaten food on the floor. That’s a lesson we can learn without attempting to strike up an awkward conversation with someone who probably doesn’t want to talk anyway.