Note from Underground #3
Every day this week the V skittered into the Steinway Street subway station, a few minutes after I got there, a few minutes after I wanted it to get there, which was quite a few minutes after I wanted to get there myself.
Every day the V came before the R, which also stops there. I haven’t seen a G train there in months, though it’s advertised as such.
Every day I took the V, which came first, instead of the R. Both get me to the Q, which is where I have to be, but not necessarily where I want to be.
Every day I grumbled a bit, having my stale cake and eating it, too, since the V gets me to work five minutes sooner – which is still ten minutes late – than the R, while that shorter commute also entails a longer transfer walk: on the R, I just skip across the platform.
Every day I took the V and went on that longer walk to the Q.
Every day I waited in the sweltering 34th Street station.
Every day I thought how hot it was, and how long I’d be there, and how cool the R stations are, and how short I’d be there.
Today was my last day taking the V.
