DWP - on the subway: prompt

On the Subway - July 2010

I am running late and I should have been at the office an hour ago. Subway is delayed again. "Switching problems" according to the announcement that keeps on blaring.

"Well then, fucking do something about it, you idiot people!" one pissed passenger yells, just as a TTC person passes by. He continues to rant and curse, directing his gaze at the TTC person.

Some of the people laugh, some glared, others non-chalantly go about whatever it is they're doing while waiting on the platform: reading books, reading newspapers, bobbing their heads to the music on their headphones, doing crosswords or sudoku. I stare at all of them. Character material for later when I sit down to write.

Outside, the temperature has reached 25 degrees and it's not even ten o'clock yet. It's hot and muggy and my hair, newly washed and styled, looks like shit again. I have a very important meeting at ten and it doesn't look like I will make it in time, especially if I will need to walk it.

After twenty minutes, the overhead speakers announce that the problem has been rectified and that service is now restored. Three jampacked trains pass by. I wouldn't dare get in. Standing here on the platform, where there is more space around me, I could already smell stale sweat and a few, all women, who have alcohol in their breath. Yaiks.

The fourth train that arrives is not terribly full so I get in and stand by the door on the opposite side. When we arrive in the next station, however, the station is packed with people. Suddenly, the train is jampacked and I hardly have room to move. Well, I say in my mind only, at least when I get to my destination, I am first to leave the train because I know the doors would open on the side where I am standing.

That is when I notice the heavily bearded man sitting on an inside seat, wearing a black toque and a khaki trench coat. It is the middle of summer, what a dolt, I say to myself. I see people looking at each other after staring at the man. He looks like...Oh, my goodness! The London and the Madrid bombings suddenly come to mind. I start to sweat. I swear that I will get the hell out of this train at the next station. I swear.

As the train approaches the next station, the man wearing toque and trench coat, gets up and moves his way towards the doors. I am thinking, "Please, God, let him leave and blow himself up elsewhere, just not here." I watch him wiggle his way towards the door and almost miss the stop. I breathe even though an armpit is within a foot away from my face. A few other people breathe a sigh of relief, too, having been thinking the same thing.

A woman says, "Not being prejudice, but with him wearing that coat and toque, in this heat, plus he looks Middle Eastern, I thought he was a suicide bomber!" Everyone nods their head slowly.