Just rode it out

I’m sitting on the 1 train, heading uptown to Columbia, half-asleep, half-scrolling through my phone, doing that thing where you think you’ve mastered the rhythm of the subway. After all, it’s just muscle memory now: 96th, 103rd, 110th, 116th.

We stop at 96th. Doors open, doors close. The train jerks forward. I glance up, waiting for 103rd. That’s when I notice something’s off. The train doesn’t slow down. No brakes, no lurch. Just the tunnel flashing by in a long, continuous streak of lights.

We fly past 103rd.

At first, I convinced myself I imagined it. Maybe we stopped and I blinked. Maybe it was one of those phantom stops where you think you feel the slowdown but don’t. Then 110th speeds by too, and suddenly my stomach drops. I look around the car, heads start to lift, a few eyebrows raise. I make eye contact with someone wearing a Columbia hoodie across from me, and I can tell we’re both thinking the same thing: So what’s going on?

Before I can even process it, the blue “116” flashes past the window, the stop I’ve been riding to, gone in an instant. No announcement. No warning. Just the faint static hum of the intercom and then silence.

The first time this happened was my freshman spring. Same thing: no heads-up, no explanation. A group of us ended up stranded at 125th, looking as confused as tourists who’d taken the wrong train to Queens. None of us knew what was going on until someone finally said, “I think it’s running express?” That night, we split an Uber back down to 116th, laughing about it but also secretly terrified that we’d somehow broken the MTA.

Since then, it’s happened at least three more times. And every time, it’s slightly different. Sometimes the conductor makes a quick announcement before the doors close, something like, “This train’s running express from 96th to 137th,” but it’s easy to miss. Maybe the PA is crackly, or you’re zoned out, or the announcement comes right as the train screeches into the station. Other times, there’s no mention at all, and you’re left to piece it together like some urban riddle.

Now I’ve got a system. If we skip 103rd, I don’t even bother panicking. I just ride it all the way to 168th. There’s a little bridge there that connects the uptown and downtown platforms, so you can cross over without even leaving the station, and surprisingly not many people are aware that that is an option. Then I take the downtown train back to 116th. No Uber required, no extra fare, just an extra 25 min of travel and a quiet moment of acceptance that the subway is going to do whatever it wants.

Honestly, it’s almost funny now. Every time it happens, I go through the same arc of disbelief, resignation, and mild amusement. There’s something kind of comforting about it, in a weird way, like the city’s way of reminding me that I’m still small here, still learning, still part of something unpredictable and alive.

So, if you ever find yourself watching your stop fly by on the 1, don’t stress. You didn’t miss it, the train just decided to keep going without you. Ride it out to 168th, take a breath, and know that somewhere out there, another Columbia student is doing the exact same thing, eyes wide, wondering what just happened, or if they’re like me, asking: really again?

The city has a way of humbling you just when you start to feel like you’ve got it all figured out.

Subway via Bwog Archives