View from Underground

Please Stop Cutting Your Nails On The Subway by flickr user Dan Dickinson

Picture a straphanger riding a half-empty subway when a clicking sound, familiar but out of place on a train, starts filling the train car. Furtively, the unsuspecting straphanger glances around at his fellow riders searching out the source of the sound when the wandering eyes alight on a man — and generally it is indeed a man — working on his nails. Clip. Pause. Examine. Clip. Pause. Examine. The excess part of the nail floats gently down to the subway floor.

Once the public groomer gets off the train, maybe our straphanger ambles past this makeshift home bathroom on the way out at his destination and stops to examine the floor of the subway. Strewn about, of course, are fingernail clippings, left for all time — or at least until the train reaches its terminal — to serve as a warning to those that might sit in that seat. A person with no manners or concept of public spaces sat here, they scream.

Nail clipping is but one form of grooming New Yorkers seem to save for the public subway. Some women use the trains as space for their makeup; others floss; some dress. More respecting subway riders, though, have had enough of it.

On Friday, Lion Calandra, identified as a freelance copy editor, added to City Room’s Complaint Box. Her piece was a rant against public grooming, and it ties in nicely with the series on underground ethics I’ve written over the last few months. She asks,” When did grooming become a spectator sport?”

These days, if someone seated near me on my morning ride is putting on makeup, someone else is clipping his fingernails (and, on one odd occasion this summer, a toenail). Or they’re plucking eyebrows, tying ties, squeezing pimples, even spraying perfume. There are those who just have to bathe themselves in lotion. Others are brushing their hair. It’s the full monty, commuter style…

We’re all strapped for time. If a person cannot manage to keep personal business personal, then it’s time for a major life overhaul. Yes, it’s hard to juggle life’s obligations. But, for the record, I don’t want to see others plucking their eyebrows or flossing their teeth. I hate to see myself doing it. I also don’t want to be in the cloud of cologne wafting through the air by the mad spritzer sitting 20 feet from me. It irks my allergies. It takes only a few extra minutes before bedtime or in the morning to tend to personal hygiene, which becomes much less hygienic when it’s done on the subway seat where some vagrant just spent the night.

Calandra makes her rant out to be about her, but it’s really about all of us. To understand that, we should set some ground rules. Some public appearance prepping is acceptable on the subway. I don’t mind if someone rushed for time has to apply some mascara or lipstick on the train. I don’t care — and in fact have done so myself — when someone has to take a second to knot a tie. These actions are fairly self-contained and don’t involve leaving anything on the ground or bothering other passengers.

But the lines should be drawn at anything that falls on the ground, makes a mess or is generally an activity suited for a bathroom sink. I don’t cut my nails while sitting over my living room couch; I wouldn’t even think about doing it on the subway. No one should, and the same can be said about removing nail polish, plucking eyebrows or flossing.

How then can straphangers go about enforcing social norms on the subway? Calandra was told to “mind your own business” when she politely asked a rider flossing to “do that at home.” The first step is to assess the person flossing. If he or she looks unhinged or, you know, bigger than you, probably don’t pick that fight. Second, being sweet-as-sugar polite is the way to go: “Excuse me please, but would you mind not cutting your nails here? It’s unsanitary and disrespectful to other riders.” Some will react badly; some may think twice about what they’re doing.

That decision to ask though is one up to all of us. If no one takes that first step, if no one notices the pigish behavior and makes a scene out of it, it will continue. Calandra blames YouTube for publicizing private moments; I blame people too oblivious to think about where they are and the straphangers who are unwilling to ask them to stop.

Beyond the sounds of the wheels clanking over tracks, the wind rushing past speedy subway cars and the endless cacophony of feedback loops and unnecessary public address announcements, our subway system is filled with the music of buskers and musicians. For decades, musicians have roamed subway cars and camped out on subway platforms and station mezzanines to serenade harried passengers on their ways to, well, wherever.

On my rides, I sometimes wait for the train to the tunes of a folk guitarist or a violinist. At W. 4th St., I’ll often catch a glimpse of the Xylopholks, pictured above, as they play their odd mix of bass+vibes while bedecked in alien or muppet costumes. The older man playing Nino Rota’s score from The Godfather on his accordion is always a welcome addition to a subway wait while the couple banging out rhythms on their plastic jugs are entertaining if deafening. We all have been subjected to more mariachi bands than we can count, and Asian strummers abound.

These, though, are the buskers. They are not a part of the MTA’s officially sanctioned Music Under New York program. Those are the folks with special banners who are approved to perform in designated areas. Despite this sanction, as City Lore, a subway musicians advocacy group, points out, although Transit can limit musical performances underground, it cannot ban them. Buskers are allowed to compete for ears — and donations — with the MUNY musicians.

In amNew York today, Heather Haddon reports on a conflict between cops and independent musicians. According to City Lore officials, cops have taken to harassing and ticketed musicians who are allowed to be performing. Some artists believe that the cops are, in the words of Haddon, “targeting musicians who have not been officially sanctioned by the MTA under its Music Under New York program.”

Haddon reports:

Veteran transit musicians say police harassment has grown to disturbing levels in recent months, leading some to fear that independent performers could be driven out of the subways. “It’s a game to drive you crazy,” said Mark “Shakerleg” Nicosia, 34, a subway drummer who has been ticketed repeatedly this year…

A NYPD spokesman said they are not “going after” musicians, and tickets are issued only when individuals are causing excessive noise, upsetting crowds and obstructing pedestrians.

According to several musicians, the NYPD issued a memo last year that instructed officers to ticket any artist not affiliated with Music Under New York, which provides designated subways spots for 100 participating artists. “It’s become very obvious they are trying to kick us out. And there’s no arguing,” said Theo Eastwind, 34, a subway musician for 15 years, who said he was shown the memo.

Per Haddon, the police say no memo exists, and she could not reach the MTA for comment on the story. Still, musicians say that performers in Times Square and Union Square are particularly vulnerable to the tickets, and a City Lore survey found “widespread harassment.” Generally, judges dismiss tickets for “insufficient evidence,” reports Haddon.

As City Lore and musicians lament the decline of charm, character and personality, I am inclined to agree. We all have moments when subway musicians are annoying. No one wants to hear that tone-deaf beggar butcher “I Can’t Help Myself” again, and the mariachi bands are, well, mariachi bands. But the musicians do indeed lend some personality to the drab underground trips that mark our days. I’m happy to listen to a tune while I wait for a train, and if I don’t like it, the other end of the platform beckons. For those who aren’t breaking laws or violating rules, it should just be that simple.

Photo of the Xylopholks by flickr user rachelkramerbusseldotcom.

In a few hours, I’m going to get both my flu shot and my H1N1 vaccine. Luckily, NYU is making these sometimes hard-to-get shots available to students, but I know that many New Yorkers do not enjoy the benefits of group health care. What do you do then when someone on your train is hacking up a lung without so much as cursory attempt to cover his or her mouth?

In today’s economy, people can ill afford to take sick days. Workers need to be at their best, and most people need the money. When one gets sick, one is often inclined to ride it out while heading to work, and generally, riding it out means, literally, riding on the subway while sick. Meanwhile, with Swine Flu fears on the rise, with the government proclaiming health emergencies, New Yorkers generally wary of the petri dish of the subways are even less tolerance of the underground coughers.

Today, Lawrence Delevinge has a story for our times about a fight on his D train over Swine Flu fears:

If you think tensions over swine flu are exaggerated, think again. We saw a violent altercation between two women this morning on the New York City subway because of H1N1.

The D train was traveling south from Rockefeller Center (50th Street) to Bryant Park (42nd Street) shortly after 8:00 am. One woman, perhaps 5’7″, slightly overweight and with dyed reddish blond hair, was coughing without covering her mouth. Maybe it was swine flu, maybe not.

Another woman, roughly 5’2″, stocky, with her blond hair in a slicked-back bun, was nearby, clearly displeased. She made a curt comment to the first woman, something to the effect of “you need to cover your mouth — I don’t want swine flu.”

The second woman continued to yell at the cougher, berating her until she reacted, beginning to curse back. It escalated, and the accosting woman yelled “get the conductor!”

No one got the conductor — it just seemed like a shouting match — but as the train pulled into 42nd Street, the coughing woman spit on the other, provoking what sounded like a punch from the reaction of the crowd (we didn’t directly see it). Then the cougher attempted to exit the train as the doors were open, but the second woman grabbed her by the back of the hair, violently yanking her down to the floor.

Eventually, the two were separated, and one of the women got off at 34th St. The other passengers, though, sided with the displeased straphanger. They noted that the offender “wasn’t even covering her mouth,” and another passenger said that he “could have decked her too. That swine flu is treacherous.”

There is little doubt in my mind what the proper course of action is. Although these two women should not have come to blows, a person who is sick but has to ride the subway must make every effort to limit the spray. I routinely see people coughing without covering their mouths, and it is, frankly, disgusting. Even without Swine Flu fears, people riding the subway should be more mindful of their germs. With the threat of a debilitating illness, though, now is the time to be ever-vigilant.

I know some of you might say I don’t go far enough. Maybe people who are sick shouldn’t ride the subways at all. In an ideal world, they would stay home and recuperate. But when a sick day isn’t an option, the rest of us on a packed subway car shouldn’t have to suffer as well.

A few weeks ago, GOOD Magazine unveiled a new series called Cities, Rethought. The feature, created in collaboration with IBM, explores the problems urban areas face and the ways in which these systems can be fixed through novel uses of technology.

As part of the introduction to the series, GOOD posted the above graphic on its website. The Oliver Munday creation delves into the pieces and systems that make up New York City. For a bigger and more interactive version, click here.

As you can see, the subways feature prominently in New York’s make-up. They cost nearly $8 billion a year to run and ferry 7.4 million people per day. Although the subways come in fifth in expenditures to government, health, education and utilities, this graph helps to underscore one of my overarching themes on Second Ave. Sagas: We need a more forward-looking transit policy in this city because the subways are vital to the economic well-being and future success of the New York Metropolitan area.

Without the subways, the city would cease to function. Yet, politicians begrudgingly fund the MTA, and New Yorkers treat it as though it is an unloved but necessary part of the day. With the right level of investment, with the right leaders pushing for the right reforms, the system could be faster, smoother, cleaner and more vast than it is today. To stay atop the global economy, New York will need a sensible transit plan for the next few decades, but until people — the 7.4 million of us who ride the subway every day — start urging our politicians to invest, we’ll be stuck with what we have.

Generally, spotting an R train running from 95 Street in Brooklyn to Continental Avenue in Queens isn’t an occasion for a photograph. The R makes that run numerous times a day.

A few weeks ago, Evan Schweitzer spotted something off-kilter on the R. Instead of the familiar yellow circle with a black letter, his R train featured a white R in a brown diamond. What, Evan wanted to know, was going on here? The answer reaches all the way back to the current origins of the New York City subway’s naming conventions.

In the early 1960s, the current R train went by the moniker of RR. A few years later, after the Chrystie St. connector opened, the norther terminus of the RR shifted to Astoria, the current end of the N/W runs. A sister line used the Nassau St. Loop and went by the designation RJ.

Things grow slightly confusing after that. A few months after the RJ debuted in the late 1960s, the line was truncated with a northern terminus at Chambers St. and a southern terminus in Bay Ridge. From then until May 1985, this route was also known as the RR. In 1985, the MTA eliminated double letter designations and referred to this Bay Ridge-to-Chambers St. rush hour-only service as the R with a brown diamond.

The last brown diamond R train ran in on November 20, 1987, and since then, the MTA has worked to streamline route designations. Outside of the 5 trains in the Bronx and the A in Queens, no longer do two distinct routes share the same number or letter. Now and then, though, the roll signs are rolled incorrectly, and those brown diamond blasts from the past rear their heads.

Lynn Harris wants you to know that she, while eight months’ pregnant, offered to give up her seat to an old man, and the old man refused. It has become such a part of her New York City identity that she felt obliged to put it in her bio to her latest online entry in The Times’ Complaint Box series of rants about Big Apple life.

As with most entitled New Yorkers these days, Ms. Harris, a native of Lexington, Massachusetts, lives somewhere near me in Park Slope. Her piece was about her sheer inability to find a seat on the subway while she was pregnant. Of course, she blames everyone else but herself in a scathing passive aggressive indictment of the supposedly selfish behavior underground:

Thank you so much, everyone, for offering me a seat on the subway when I’ve got my daughter in her stroller or my son in his Bjorn. (Or both.) I would like to rest for a moment; it’s awfully kind of you, indeed. And yes, by all means, you can help me get the stroller up the stairs. Thanks again.

I have just one question: Where were you people when I was pregnant? Oh, right. You were sitting comfortably in your seats. While I stood. In August.

It happened every time, with both pregnancies. When the train arrived, I’d exaggerate my waddle, brush a sweaty wisp from my forehead, emit a weary sigh and enter, gazing around for a seat or a good Samaritan. What I’d see: blank stares, bald spots, newspaper headlines. Headlines held up to hide faces. (Headlines that might have read “Chivalry Dead.”) No one budged. Time and again. No one budged.

If anyone did give up a seat — which, O.K., did happen, on days when there was a partial eclipse, a unicorn sighting and alternate-side parking suspended, or when I finally started asking for one — the donors appeared in this order of likelihood: (1) older woman, (2) younger woman, (3) minority man.

That’s right, folks: No white man every offered to give up his seat to Ms. Harris even during the sweltering months of August when temperatures on the subway cars are routinely held at 70-72 degrees. As you can tell from the tone of the first four paragraphs, the rest of the piece is just as tedious, but it does raise one of our many interesting underground ethics questions: Should people give up a seat to a pregnant lady or should the pregnant lady ask for a seat?

In the comments to Ms. Harris’ piece — mostly devoted to the millions of New Yorkers who do actually give up their seats — the jury is out. Many seem to believe that straphangers should willing cede seat space to someone visibly pregnant. Others though warn about the pregnancy faux pas. What if the woman in question is rather rotund but not pregnant?

Instead, the solution rests in the hands of the pregnant woman who should ask for a seat. “Excuse me, but may I please sit down?” Who could refuse that from someone potentially pregnant? Not I, and not the vast majority of straphangers I know.

In the end, Ms. Harris never ventures into this territory of underground behavior. She is content to simmer passive aggressively while supposedly few subway riders gave up seats for her. She brings out her frustration in a snark-filled column online, proving that she is no better or worse with her underground manners than those who sit with their noses buried in books and ears deep in iPod while the pregnant ladies all must stand.