So, the F train is running late. What do you do? One guy browses the music on his iPod. A young mother sits with her head in her hand. An older man screams into the intercom. Two women chat (note the amazing gold lamé bag!). Most folks just wait. I take this photo.The temperature rises. The F train runs three storeys [edit: just caught this spelling error] underground; subway trains on the upper levels rumble above, giving us false hope.
The train arrives, 25 minutes late. Finally.
2 comments:
I remember those waits! Nice post.
Thanks for the glimpse. I've never been to NYC. . .I can't even imagine it! Life here is so quiet. Maybe I need a town mouse, country mouse experience.
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