Transkrypcja: SUBWAY Stories Tales from the Underground 1997 part 6 Love on the A Train1

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Hey, Daily News, two coffees, regular, please. I was living in newly married comfort over on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. Every day my wife and I would step out of our apartment house together and make our way down to the A train at the Hoyt-Shimmerhorn station. She would head south to her morning kindergarten class and I would head north into Manhattan. This particular day was our three-month anniversary. As a trader of municipal bonds, I saw the state in terms of a quarterly report. Things were better than expected. Two coffees and a Daily News. Danny Bernardo now. I know I told you about him before. He's the one that's always getting into trouble.

Holly Calora just walks right up to him and gives this sweet little peck on the cheek. It was the funniest thing and the whole class just busts out laughing and cheering. Anyway, it was the most adorable thing. I mean, he was like his first kids, you know? So sweet. It was a chance encounter, really, in which I was entirely un-involved. So I told myself at the time, anyway. Although I couldn't help believing it, it was just some strange coincidence. I couldn't help hoping that it wasn't. Coincidence? Or was it fate? Whichever. Our little chance encounters continued this way every day for nearly nine months. Our relationship developed its own silent rules, strictly obeyed.

Expressions of greeting and farewell were unthinkable. No word ever passed between us and no sign, not even a shared glance or smile. But once our contact was established, it provided the means by which the rocking of the train came our own sensuous rhythm. I began to think of my hand as possessing a powerful attraction, in the way the males of certain animal species have natural adornments that females find irresistible, like the peacock's fan. At the same time, I understood what was happening between us could not be duplicated, even if I spent every available hour clutching poles in full view of all the city's females. I realized conversation is a risk, but I'm ready.

Ready to take the next step. Oh, God. What will I possibly say to her? Share my views on Republican Party politics? What if she's a Democrat? Comment about the weather? Tuba now. I want you to love me for more than my hand. Jesus. All right. Let's spoil the mystery. We've had this thing going for a little bit of time now, you know. And I think that maybe, you know, we should. . . have a conversation, you know? God forbid. Excuse me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Did you hear me? Excuse me. That's out of the question. What? I'm sorry. Our first fight.

I suddenly remembered arteries' territorial imperative for my psychology class in college. I understood then that I was only potent and attractive in that small area around the pole. Outside of it, the electricity would fail. It was sweet. Was it really worth what I might be losing? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. It was sweet. Was it really worth what I might be losing? I guess I thought I'd found something with her that I could not find in my own marriage. But I was wrong. So I left her for the F-Tray.

And if we want to know what sex it is, you can tell us. Yeah. I know, know. I definitely don't want to know the sex. No, I want to do something. Come on. Coincidence, irony, fate, what have you. Thank God it's all behind us. I'm sorry. Coincidence, irony, fate, what have you. Thank God it's all behind me. Who was that? Did you know her? Honey, who was that? Who was that? I don't know. I don't know who that was. .

S.W. I.J.

SUBWAY Stories Tales from the Underground 1997 part 6 Love on the A Train1

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