After another Friday night spent getting plastered with your NYU friends, it’s time to make the lonely trek back uptown on our good ole friend The 1 Train. This weekend, Arts Editor Sarah Kinney shared a 1 train car at 2am with a good friend (totally coincidental encounter) who then proceeded to puke all over the platform on 42nd St. station. Oh, and also her ex’s roommate. She was consequently inspired to create this guide for the archetypes you encounter on the 1 train at 2am on a Friday night, all the way from Canal to 116th.
The couple making out.
Late at night you can always find couples on the train who have had a bit too much wine and don’t give a shit about PDA. They’re sitting down, but really one of them is just sitting on the other’s lap. They’re getting handsy and it would make you uncomf except for the fact that this is New York and everybody just minds their own damn business. You’d think they were cute if you weren’t drowning in crippling loneliness yourself. They get off at Times Square, presumably to transfer.
The guy snoring.
You’re pretty sure they’ve missed their stop. Their snoring is louder than the macking sounds of the couple across from them, so at least you’ve got an eclectic soundtrack. You relate to them on a deeply personal level because falling asleep on the subway can be so cathartic. As long as no one steals your stuff. Tread carefully, kids. You never see them get off the train.
The girl crying.
Same, girl. She’s lettin’ those tears flow and she doesn’t give a fuck about who sees. You sorta want to go over to her and make sure she’s okay, but as I’ve said before, this is New York and everybody just minds their own damn business, so you decide to stay where you are. You wonder about all the different reasons why she could be crying… did she just get dumped? Did her grandma die? Is she just the type of person who cries every time they get drunk? Same, girl. She gets off at Lincoln Center.
The happy group of friends.
Finally, something positive! This group of pals has just finished a #lit evening doing karaoke in Ktown and now they’re headed back uptown. You’re pretty sure they go to Columbia. You feel a sense of camaraderie with them, knowing you’ll all be getting off at the same spot. They’re in high spirits and provide a nice contract to the bawling girl a few seats down. They get off at 116th.
The loud drunk.
This guy is singing, yelling, and almost falling on his face every single time the train pulls away from the station. You’re kinda worried he’s gonna puke on you. He’s totally alone, which is a tad worrisome… Is he going to make it home okay? He’s a grown ass man, hopefully he will. Also you don’t really give a shit and you try to tune him out. You get off the train before he does.
The lone observer.
You. You’re just drunk enough after your night out to where you take in the subway car around you as if in a dream. You’re content and observant. You probably have headphones in, but also maybe not. You’re carefully looking at each other person in the almost-empty car because they’re so caught up in their own worlds that they’re not noticing a thing. You’re not snoring or yelling or crying. You get off at 116th.
Image via Wikipedia (can you believe the 116th st station has its own Wikipedia page??)