The city is a different beast once the rain starts falling. The hardest time I’ve had getting on the 77th St 6 train is maybe missing one. The first time it rained here I missed 5. It took me 30 minutes from waiting on the platform to finally shoving myself into the subway car. It was hot and wet and sticky. I was sweating by the time I even made it to the station. Below ground the platforms were completely full with people: from the yellow stip (that you’re not supposed to stand on) all the way to the wall. Everyone was wedged together and when a train approached it was like a collective step forward. Just when you think you couldn’t get any closer to the people around you, the announcement that a train is approaching would come on and everyone would step closer to the platform and the limited personal space you had before is gone. People are ruthless when it comes to the morning commute. People will yell at you if you don’t get out of their way when they’re getting off, they’ll yell at you if you don’t shove close together enough so that they can get on (sometimes the crazy homeless people just yell for no reason). I’ve never been in such close proximity to strangers in my life. Walking down the street becomes a strategic game of avoiding being stabbed with an umbrella and trying not to let your umbrella flip inside out when the wind picks up.
But when the city is blanketed in the shine of water after rain, it gives it an entire new beauty. Things some how seem more still and more somber. Its quiet but with a different buzz. I love this city.