Matthue Roth: The subways were psycho today. There was fog, mad fog, and at my outdoor subway station, you couldn’t see more than five feet in front of you. People kept staring down the tracks, looking for that ghostly light. It took forever. Ten minutes, fifteen, and then in the fog, a faint yellow pair of eyes, that subway, creeping ever forward. It was packed. We had to force our way on, and then more people forcing their way on. I was one of the last people to actually fit. Or maybe everyone thinks that. At the next stop, this fat kid with a good smile apologized to everyone as he squeezed on, ‘Sorry, I got to get to work.’ The stop after that, a fat woman stepped on and literally swished smaller people into each other. I don’t mean to call out fat people, I’m sorry it sounds bad, but this morning it seemed like nobody but fat people were even attempting to get on the train. A disembodied woman’s voice yelled in our car at each station, “There is no more fucking room!” We all agreed with her. But she sounded more violent each time, and we were afraid to agree. The last stop before we dipped underground, the train stalled for ten minutes. A man’s and woman’s voices yelled at each other from outside. All the people on the platform, the people who couldn’t get in, watched the offscreen drama. Someone said somebody should call 911. I wondered why that person didn’t. I wasn’t sure if it was really going to get bad, if it was just two people who didn’t know each other yelling at each other, or what. I thought about the potential of calling 911 just to say that people weren’t getting along, and there were bad vibes everywhere, and could they help out with that. I couldn’t call 911. I couldn’t reach my phone. My arms were pinned by too many people on every side.
