Chapter 1: Ride 1 Thursday March 5th

It is 11: 57PM on a Thursday Night, and I start this true real life story off inaccurately towards its namesake. While it seems most my life is spent on the R today’s documentation starts itself off on the 2 train going from the Upper West side. The setting is soothing, the sight of blue seats, and galvanized walls is cold in appearance, however its status as the lifeline to my home makes it warm. The train is pretty light of populous; however there seems to not be a single seat. The soundtrack of tonight’s ride begins as Mexican Mariachi Fusion as I'll call it. 'This is 34th street” chimes in, and the Mariachi music ends, as this moments entertainment departs the train. The train is a melting pot, as much so as the city we effortlessly glide under. 'This is 14th St.' Chimes in, and with it comes a new moments entertainment, " an Asian-American male listening to gangster rap. I mind this much less than the hyperactive beats of the previous entertainment. The more mellow, and lyrical tones of the rap are actually quite tranquil and the beat is nice. I take a moment to observe the people around me. One thing that really stands out to me is the two sports fans on my right who are kneeling on opposite armrests. One Red Sox fan, one Yankees, they seem to not have any differences, and seem to care not whom the others team is, funny how things are in the off-season.

We are almost out of Manhattan, on the last express train in NYC that came 3 minutes before the start of late night. 'This is Wall Street' Last stop in Manhattan. Makes me start to think, its amazing the amount of people on the train tonight. The last three nights there hasn't been a soul on the train at this point. I begin to get the feeling that Red-blooded working class Americans surround me. Tonight’s train is split evenly between middle-aged, and 20-somethings, with a sprinkle of younger and older. Nobody looks to be going out to party, everyone looks as though they are going home after a hard days of work. The juxtaposition is quite astounding to the climate of the economic times. Work is more important than play these days. I begin to muse about, where are these people coming from, where are they going; I begin to dream of back stories and think of drastically altering this story from truth to fiction, and just as I do...

"Approaching Clark St." interrupts my wonderful daydreaming and I start to notice that the soundtrack has taken a sharp adjustment in tone, from 50 cent to Cindy Lauper, a change that would put the less musically prepared individual in shock from just this occurrence. Thankfully the new moments entertainment comes in the door and sits beside me. A man dressed in black and grey but adorned with trinkets of green, yellow and black and his hair back in a large hat. This man carries quite an odor from his unwashed and beaded dreadlocks. It’s not a particularly offensive odor, its just there, very primal, very primitive. His music is very pleasing, reggae. Its simple off beats lull me into an impending slumber that I must fight with every bit of adrenalin I have remaining.

Two more stops to go until I reach Atlantic Avenue, my second to last strenuous exercise of the night as I must sprint to the N train to make it in time.

A worthless Sprint for nothing, as I arrived the train departed, I got there so soon after it left I was able to take a snap shot. It is now late night so heaven knows when the next train will arrive. My best hope is for a D now, and maybe a N. After that I will have an event more true to this stories namesake, I will be on the R and heading to my home. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, this is late night afterall.

So I take the time to Observe the station I am sitting in. Have you ever been in a cave? That's what I compare a winter train station to. It’s subterranean, humid and cold. The dampness permeates all around you and chills go up your spine. It is an experience that registers with 4 of the 5 senses. The Only Sense not included is the taste, because honestly, I do not wish to put anything in the subway in my mouth.

A D train arrives in a direction I had not been expecting. The monotony of my ride home has rendered me completely useless. I am on a train never the less. The D is as 80s fast food restaurant as they come. When this train goes out of service, I fully expect its next life to be as a McDonalds. The lights are dim, the seats are a hunger inducing orange and yellowish orange and the stench of grease and dirt is in the air. Seems someone is still making it in advertising, unlike me, the entire trains 24 ad spaces are bought out by the same two companies.

The train is quiet, very quiet; everyone is doing the opposite if me, reading. So the train makes a sudden announcement. "THERE ARE NO R TRAINS STOPPING A 36TH STREET STATION." We slothfully ease into 36th street station and my nearest neighbor and I lock eyes and sigh simultaneously. We now must wait for an N train, like the one I missed earier. Sorry to the readers who are eagerly awaiting my first ride on an R train.

Much to my delight an N train comes almost immediately, although it stops abruptly before the platform, then full throttle zooms forward, then abruptly stops, and does the same again. For the last time tonight my neighbor and I lock eyes simultaneously and she exclaims in a broken Puerto Rican accent, "student driver," and we share a hearty laugh. We are only on the N for Four stops, four stops that takes my time away from my nemesis, the dreaded R train. Much to my surprise and certainly delight the R train is waiting across the platform. I raise my arms triumphantly and yelp with excitement. My acquaintance and I share one last laugh, as we part ways most likely forever. If we do encounter one another we will be quite ignorant to each other’s existence.

The R, is much like the D, nearly identical to the 5 senses, at least I'll assume it tastes the same. But to those of us with a sixth sense know that it, unlike the D, is evil. It is built with evil wheels, evil computers and an evil inhuman soul. Its evilness is much that of a werewolf or a vampire, an evil that only occurs at nighttime. Alas I spend a short paragraph’s length on the R train, and my night of public transit ends.