A man, Bob Johnson, leans on a cold, concrete pillar, silently waiting for
the train to take him to work. He waits as he has waited for the past seven
years of his monotonous, somewhat mechanical existence. He glances calmly at his
wristwatch; thirty-seven minutes past eight o’ clock in the morning. “Damn,” he
thinks to himself. “Oh well, they’ll have to let me off,” he mumbles to himself,
“it’s the first time I’ve been late in the seven years I’ve worked there.” So,
Bob slowly makes his way to the edge of the platform so as to get a good seat on
the train. Around him, people mill around waiting for the same train Bob waits
for. Directly behind him, a fat woman sits on a wooden bench holding her
designer label bag in her lap, close to her chest. She is obviously very
self-conscious and she glances around nervously. Nearby the fat lady, three
African-American guys, aged around 20, dressed in ridiculously oversized
clothing, listen to a rap song on a portable stereo. To his left, a businessman
and his associate stand underneath a train schedule board discussing some
important topic. Near him stands a group of Japanese tourists, looking at a
half-folded map, trying to figure out the best route to arrive at their
destination. Two of them are in a heated argument, speaking very quickly in
Japanese. Bob then catches a glimpse of a crowd of school kids heading towards
the platform with their chaperones; they are going on a day-trip to the Natural
History Museum. While Bob is lost in his silent study of the Human-Being, the
advance warning lights lined along the edge of the platform where there is a six
foot drop to the train tracks, warning people that the train will arrive in just
a few moments.
Everybody hears the high-pitched squeal of metal wheels on metal rails,
and a sudden rush of air against his face from the fast moving train brings Bob
back to his senses. At this moment everyone waiting for the train; the fat lady,
the “homeboys,” the business associates, the tourists and the school group, in
amongst a slew of other interesting people; begin crowding the platform where
Bob calmly waits to go to work. In all the rushing, panic, and pushing of
people, Bob Johnson, who was waiting calmly to get onto the train, somehow gets
jostled by the wave of people and topples over. He falls straight into the
middle of the tracks. Chaos. Somebody screams, everybody looks, everybody
screams, everybody runs. Bedlam takes over; no one knows quite exactly what to
do. Bob, after what seems like an eternity, pushes himself slightly off the
ground and spits some blood to the gravel floor. Looking straight at the ground,
still gathering his senses, he is abruptly hit with a state of shock and
confusion. He hears the growing screeching noise of the trains breaks. He looks
up and to his right and sees the train’s lights and bulking mass, bearing down
on him. At the moment just before impact, and Bob’s almost-apparent death, some
ones muscular hand grabs him by his arm and pulls him off the path of his
surefire demise, leaving only Bob’s briefcase to be torn apart by the
quick-moving train. Every single last muscle in Bob Johnson’s body aches and he
can’t stop himself from shaking. All he feels is adrenalin pumping through his
mind, and his body. He finally gains his senses back, and sits up impulsively,
and looks around. A feeling of relief floods through him where the adrenalin
once did before. It was only a dream. He is now in the comfort of his own bed,
he looks over on his bedside stand, at his alarm clock, it is five o’ clock in
the morning and the sounds of a city gearing up and preparing for a long day
fill his head. He gets up and starts his morning routine. He takes a nice
refreshing shower, and eats some almost-burnt toast and drinks a glass of orange
juice, just as he has showered and eaten breakfast for the past seven years of
his monotonous life.
