At the end of a very long, no good, sweltering, nyc day, I waited for a very-delayed downtown 4 underneath Grand Central, absolutely smashed together with what might have been a thousand other people. It was stifling.
I was barely holding myself together. I was exhausted, irritable, and probably hangry.
Trains finally started showing up, and people jammed themselves in, using the closing doors as leverage to squeeze one more person in.
Finally at the front of the crowd, another train rolled into the station.
The doors opened, and I squeezed myself deep into the car, all the way to the middle.
The people deep in the interior of a crowded subway car at rush hour are mostly there on purpose. It’s harder to leave, of course. But it’s sometimes less crowded. But the main reason to be there is because it’s still. No one leaves. No one needs to get past you in a hurry. So for those of us on a long-haul trip, there’s a kind of peace in the crammed middle.
That peace costs you some bodily autonomy. But believe me, it’s worth it. In the middle of the car, I can just zone out after an exhausting day and be alone next to a thousand other exhausted people.
The doors close. The train moves. My day is finally ending.
And then, right in the middle, right behind me, sitting in her mom’s lap behind a wall of straphangers, a toddler begins to scream-cry.
You’ve got to be fucking. kidding. me.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. Today of all days. I would be stuck with this 90 decibel toddler for most of my long trip. FUCK.
I was closer to my public breaking point than I’d ever been. I wanted to scream. Maybe cry. Definitely throw a tantrum.
And then, for reasons that have remained a mystery to me to this day, a tiny little thought squeezed through my crowded brain, and landed quietly in front of my attention:
That toddler sounds exactly like a feel.
Exhausted, hungry, uncomfortable, definitely needs a nap.
I cannot express to you how cathartic that was.
I imagined myself screaming and crying, just like that baby, and how silly that would feel. I flat-out smiled just thinking about myself, a grown adult, doing exactly what this little toddler is fully allowed to do.
I lived vicariously through that tiny person for probably 15 minutes, before that hero-of-a-mom got off with her baby.
And now every time a baby cries in public, I remember this, and it takes a little bit of the sting out.
Thanks kiddo. Hope you got some milk and a nap in your mother’s arms.
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