The bell rings and the train doors close. This is certainly nothing out of the ordinary. However, this one day at Grand Central, I looked out the window, and I saw myself walking across the platform towards the escalator. Same pea coat, same black toboggan, same faded blue jeans with the frayed cuffs that get caught underneath the bottom of the same red, off-brand Converses. There I go. Where’s he going?
Grand Central is a chaotic place to be in the morning. The busy bodies are pushing past one another, making football-precision plays to avoid being tackled or hurled to the floor. There is no sense or sensibility in this tiled cave; no team pride—just prejudice as far the top of the heads stretch down the hallways and corridors of cold, off-white tile. Tiled walls, tiled floors, moldy ceilings.
There are different forms of us walking through the tunnels underneath New York City each day. The most common takes just one step at a time as they ascend the stairs and escalators that will take them to far-off and far-out places. Then there is the individual that skips every other step. I fall into that crowd. You see, I have places to be and blank faces to speak about nothing in particular with, in regards to nothing at all. There are important meetings and tasks that must be completed before the day’s end. And I have this idea that the quicker I go, the quicker it will all be over. I’m not sure if it really works that way, though.
Truthfully, my friends… That guy that just went up the escalator; the one that looks just like me…. He’s not really me at all. He’s just another every-other-stepper that has checked his mind out of his body and put it on lease for the common good of society. That guy is working hard, milking the machine, paying someone’s bills, screaming on the inside, building parks and sidewalks, putting kids in schools, feeding violent cops, saying “yes” when he is told not to do this or that, but, most of all, that guy is just trying his best to not walk into the one-steppers that stand between him and his destination.
get out of my way.
ta-da.