Public Service Announcement: Empty Subway Cars

If you've recently moved to New York or are preparing to visit, there are a number of helpful things you should know. Subway routes. North, South, East and West. Landmarks. How to tip (if anyone feeds you or moves you from one place to another, give them money). Burgers cost a minimum of $9, even at the divey dives, so don't act all shocked. Beers cost $5 and cocktails are at least $10, and you gotta tip the bar staff extra nice. This isn't the Midwest. You gotta pay to play. But, in your defense, eager tourist or bright-eyed new resident, you can't be expected to know the finer points of taking on the city and keeping your sanity on your first day. To improve the quality of your time here in the Big Apple, The Karma Cycle is henceforth issuing Public Service Announcements to cue you in on the hard-won knowledge that you won't find in guide books or Zagat's.

Today's PSA: If, during peak commuting times, the train is completely stuffed except for one car, DO NOT, under any circumstances, enter the empty car. There is one and only one reason for the lack of passengers. A homeless person has set up residence in said car and is compromising the air quality with his or her body odor and/or stench created from bodily functions.

I made this mistake once as a NYC neophyte and just today saw some unfortunate soul make the same error during the evening rush hour and run gasping for the doors between the cars. The stink had invaded my car too, which was behind the empty one, no doubt due to people escaping the offending vapors. Occasionally, in summer, the air conditioning in a car will break and the car will carry fewer passengers than usual. Even in this situation, there will still be people in the car if the train is crowded. But, to maintain your commuting comfort, choose a different, normally-populated car if possible.

EMPTY SUBWAY CAR = STINKY SUBWAY CAR

Remainders

This evening, coming home after a long day of work and a couple glasses of Pinot Noir, I saw the saddest thing I've noticed in a while. It was a sign, written on discarded cardboard, that said "Help. Trying to get out of the cold". There was some stuff on the opposite side I couldn't read. It had been tossed into the tracks for the uptown CE train at West 4th St. Occasionally, I take a census of the refuse lying in and around the track. Most often, it's the cast-offs of everyday life...pens, batteries, plastic forks, soda bottles, etc. But this sign, someone's best attempt at making their life bearable for a short time, lying forlornly in the subway gutter, made me wish that the world was a little kinder sometimes.

Bad Art, Volume 1: "Bling"

For some time now, I've been irritated every time I'm greeted with this poster upon entering the subway. Granted, peoples' artistic tastes come in all forms, but this piece makes me let out an inner sigh of despair when I'm immobilized on a crowded train and know I'm going to have to face it (and take the forced opportunity to study it) for twenty minutes during my commute.


This particular work, done in colored pencil (advanced!) and entitled "Bling" by an artist named Dave Calver, is the worst example of MTA's artistic judgment yet to date. It's a stylized female hand wearing a shirt with subway logos on the sleeve and jewelry made out of New York landmarks. Now, I'm all for public art, even the eccentric or strange. It's part of what makes this city unique and beautiful. I don't even mind the bongo players and dancers at Times Square, though the Scientologists can bugger right off with their stupid "stress tests". My first problem with "Bling" is that it looks like something you'd find marked 75% off in the discount bin at a New Age shop, next to the patchouli-scented aura adjustment candles, whale sounds CDs and crystals that can be used as deodorant.

My second complaint is that it seems to spring directly from the Thomas Kinkade (worst. "artist". ever.) school of crappy, unoriginal space-fillers for waiting rooms and apparently, now subway cars. I feel like I should be idly flipping through a six month old Redbook and waiting to get my teeth cleaned. It sends disappointing vibes all around, and definitely does not do anything to improve my mood while crammed under the armpit of the gentleman next to me. Come on, MTA. You can do better. Give me some poems by high school kids, at least. I thought this was the worst subway poster out there, but it seems Mr. Calver has trumped himself with his most recent effort. It's a brown rabbit bounding through Manhattan with commuters on its back. Truly, truly awful. I've only seen it once, and don't yet have a pic, but rest assured, one will arrive as soon as possible. Until then, keep an eye out for this astoundingly bad piece of art next time you're on the train.

Subway Zealotry

The ads on the subways here pitch anything and everything, from cheap, quickie divorces to surgery for hammer toe correction. Among the ubiquitous liquor posters and promos for technical colleges, commuters can find their morning dose of good old-fashioned bible talkers. Chief among these is one Dr. Creflo A. Dollar of the World Changers Church International. That has got to be the most perfect name for someone in the evangelical sales business.

The ever-curious Karma Cycle took a look into Dr. Dollar, whose message combines your standard Christian buzzwording with the added bonus of relieving his followers of personal responsibility for their own prosperity. The "God will work it out" school of life management. Today's message is "How to get angels to work for you". This practical advice outlines "six steps to activating angelic protection", available through purchase only. My theory is that this works like a clogged drain. You pour your big bottle of extra-strength angelic protection down the drainpipe of your life, wait fifteen minutes and flush the sex, drugs and rock-and-roll away with hot water. That's not what I need. I'm more interested in how to get angels to do real work for me. At the moment, my laundry needs done and my tub could use a good scrubbing. Pray tell me, Dr. Dollar, how do I get the angels to get busy on that?

For the nominal fee of $4, you can get your very own copy of the six steps. I, of course, am too cheap to bite that bait, and have a strict policy against giving money to proselytizers. In fact, most of Dr. Dollar's messages come in easily-digestible, numbered step format, and are not too expensive as far as quality, feasible life advice is concerned. So if you are tired of being responsible for your own bizness, send your dollars to Dollar, and he'll give you a bullet-pointed list that no doubt includes lots and lots of praying. The best part? His wife's name is Taffi. That's right, Creflo and Taffi Dollar. Jim and Tammy Fay ain't got nothin' on them.