New2NY: The Subway Elite

Hailing originally from a suburb north of Los Angeles, California – a city teeming with the rich and famous – I find myself curious underneath the streets of Manhattan? Could Mr. Sweaty Armpits standing above me be a “somebody”? Wall Street gurus’s get pit stains too, I think.

I live on the Upper East Side. I work in Times Square. I ride the subway a lot. To top it off, I have to take two different lines to travel two and from work, so that doubles my exposure to weary underground travelers.

Whereas Los Angeles’ famous people are usually in someway tied to Hollywood, New York City is dynamic because it’s famous people can be Broadway or movie stars, provocative journalists, corporate CEOs or the aforementioned Wall Street gurus. (I’ll be nice to the guru’s since they’ve been receiving the bad end of the stick lately).

When you ride the subway, first of all, you are not even acknowledged unless you are rude or you happen to be in someone’s way. However, one thing New Yorkers are good at is giving up a seat for someone who needs it. People are especially generous for pregnant women, and boy have I seen a lot of them. Maybe New Yorkers reproduce more than other major cities. I’d have to check that statistic. Anyway, so maybe you are acknowledged for five seconds, but that is no way near enough time to truly make a connection with someone (hence why the Craigslist missed connections feature is popular with many).

Bringing back the comparison, Los Angeles’ elite are people you’d want to pass on the street to say you saw them, but New York’s elite could really make a difference to your life. Well, at least from the point of view of a young, recent college grad like me. I majored in environmental science and minored in journalism. If I happened to meet an exec. from Scientific American or Discovery Magazine or even the New York Times Science Section and they liked me, WAM BAM, I could land my dream job. Alas, you can’t really know unless someone wrote their name and profession in Sharpie on their forehead.

I’m the type to strike up a conversation with my neighbor on an airplane. I like how the interaction passes the time and I’ve met some interesting people over the years. However, I think people would think me as strange as my roommate did when I tried to humanely capture and release the cockroach inhabiting our bathroom if I tried to strike up friendly talk on the 6 Train.

I hope I’m not conveying the idea that I’m some naïve girl from California who wants to be happy and friendly with everyone, even if I am a new New Yorker. I have definitely had my fare share of creep experiences on the Subway in the two months I’ve lived here. Just the other day I was stared down by a man with a red gash under his eye. It wasn’t so much a malicious stare, but I think he was just trying to freak me out. Every time I looked up, there were his eyes. Come to think of it, I don’t really remember him blinking. Of course I’ve also shared a “holding bar” (what are those things called exactly?) with likely prostitutes, bank robbers and drug dealers. But hey, that’s the big city for you.

Even so, amid all of us thousands of normal people, Manhattan’s elite must be there. They can’t all be taking cabs and limos to work everyday. I’ll let you know when I find mine.