“Everyone will have to get off the Train!”

--Said the conductor, mid-tunnel

Empty No. 2 Train headed north.

Sunday afternoon, December 7th I needed to run a quick errand down to Greenwich Village.  Straight down to 14th Street and straight back up on the Nos. 2 or 3 trains.  Round trip would take less than an hour.  The ride down was quiet and normal.  I dropped off my package, turned my “Benz” around, headed back to 14th Street and hopped on a No. 2 train going north. 

Usually, I pay attention to my surroundings but for some reason this afternoon, once I was on the train, my mind wandered until suddenly I realized something was going on.  The train had come to a complete stop mid-tunnel and there was the usual garbled message coming over the speakers.  I couldn’t remember what station we had just left, and I hadn’t heard what had been said. 

To passengers standing around me, I asked, “What’s going on?”  Apparently, someone was on the tracks further up the line and the MTA had cut the electricity to the third rail.  Until that got sorted out, the train wasn’t going to move.

Our mid-train conductor, Janine.

Suddenly the conductor came through the door and announced that everyone would have to get off the train.  Doors would be open at the front so please make your way forward.  In the years I’ve had the scooter, this was a first. My scooter probably wouldn’t fit through the doors, so I didn’t move. 

Passengers, however, formed a line and quietly began doing as she asked.  I remained calm figuring the train crew wouldn’t leave me; the conductor knew I was on board, so I just watched as people passed.  But this has been my experience with my fellow New Yorkers-- many of them asked if they could help me.  It was truly heartwarming.  The conductor hearing this came into the car, made eye contact with me and said “You and I are leaving together.  We just have to wait for everyone else to leave first.” 

There was no way my scooter would fit through those doors.

Out the windows I could see tiles and the platform up ahead, but I am embarrassed to admit, I could not identify the station yet I’ve traveled these lines for 40 years!  Not that it mattered, but I take great pride in knowing where I am above or below ground.  It turned out we were just entering 42nd Street. A person had either been pushed or jumped on to the tracks.

The train cars were emptied quickly.  Finally, it was just the conductor and me.  I asked her if she had ever had this happen before and she said “No, first time for me.”  Then I asked her how long she has worked for the transit authority—“Two years.”  She is a newbie!  Before we could talk more, the conductor up at the front radioed the next steps. 

During this time I had seen something going on outside the door of where I was parked.  But as the tunnel was dark, I assumed it was MTA people checking out the train.

Next thing I hear is the male conductor up ahead asking Janine, “Did you see that?!”  Her response was, “Yes I did!  Unfortunately, some things cannot be unseen!”

Hearing this, I asked her if she might be talking about a “flasher” to which she responded, “Yes!  He was right outside here.”  “OMG,” I answered. “I could see something going on out of the corner of my eye, but it’s so dark I could only see arms waving.  He’s been trying to get my attention too.”  Hilarious. 

A minute later the conductor up ahead radioed that the tracks were clear and the train was going to pull into the station where the passengers could reboard.  We were on our way within minutes and to get the train back on its schedule, we skipped 72nd Street, pulling into 96th Street almost on time, as if nothing had happened.

P.S. Thankfully no one was injured.