Empire State of Mind.

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to say something. To the stranger sitting next to me on the subway whose earphones are so loud I can’t concentrate on the A section of the Times, because all I can hear is Jay-Z talkin’ bout how he grew up in a place famous for movie scenes where people take Gypsy Cabs (Actually, these streets won’t make you feel brand new. In fact, more often than not, they’ll make you lose your mind).

To the person standing on the left side of the escalator in rush-hour, I resist the urge to yell – STAND TO THE RIGHT! To the person who stops just at the top of the stairs to check their blackberry, I resist the urge to inform them - OTHER PEOPLE EXIST! And on and on and on.

However after over four years in this city, I’ve come to find that you really have to pick your battles. Because the moment you choose to address each irritating thing that happens to you in the course of say, just your morning commute, pretty soon you’ll have to start resisting the urge to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.

This morning was a prime example. An emergency on the 96th street downtown local tracks made me take the train from 86th up to 96th only to transfer then to a downtown 2 or 3 train (it’s early, it’s snowing and I’m already irritable). By the time I made it down to Houston, the local 1 train was packed. Upon exiting the crowded, hot train, one rider made one of the most common (and most irritating) mistakes – she shouted “excuse me!” to everyone in front of her while also trying to push her way through the crowd. Note: this is the most irritating when it’s clear that everyone else is also trying to get off the train as calmly and semi-orderly as possible.

True to form, I resisted the urge to say something. However the gentleman next to me had apparently had enough. To the woman, (who like most people in these situations thought she was the only person who mattered), he said: “Calm down lady, we’re all trying to get off here too.” The woman, (not surprisingly) didn’t take this very well. She proceeded to tell him to “fuck off,” to which he replied, calmly and loudly while shaking his head, “Boy, are you fucking irritating.” The crowd laughed and I smiled inwardly.

The best part of this little tableau however, was that after such a declaration I would think the ideal thing to do would be to deliver the stinging comment and then flee from the scene. But karma being what it is, after telling this woman in front of a train full of people that she’s “fucking irritating,” the button on the cuff of his winter jacket got caught, (in what looked odds-wise to be tantamount to hitting the lottery), on the small little fabric handle of her umbrella.

Oh.

I then watched as these two enemies had to stop, (attached now), and work together to disentangle themselves. As I passed by and he was finally freed, I’m fairly certain I heard him tell her he was sorry.

Let’s hear it for New York.