A Crowded Train

Dear Diary:

I got on a No. 4 train at 86th Street at rush hour. It was crowded, but there was enough room to stand comfortably.

By the time we got to 59th Street, hands were covering the car’s center pole from top to bottom. It was a rough ride. The train was going fast and rocking intensely from side to side. Everyone was holding on tightly to keep their balance.

When we got to Grand Central, the competition for a spot on the pole was fierce. An older woman whose hand had been gripping below mine was forced to move to my left to accommodate a crush of riders coming onto the train.

Too far away to grab onto the pole, she caught my eye with a panicked look.

“I have nothing to hold on to,” she said quietly.