rushing through the tunnels at 35mls per hour, New York City subway system is one form of transportation Yorkers can always relay on. On a sizzling summer afternoon in July, I was standing on the platform on 125 street train station awaiting a number four train to Woodlawn. The platform became crowded than usual as if everyone decided to go home at the same time. Thirty minutes later and still not trains going in my direction. The humid condition has taken a toll on the commuters. People’s tiredness has driven frustration to its maximum. It was 6:45pm when the first train entered the station whistling and blowing steam as if it had been running all day. Commutators pack themselves in the carts like sardines in a can in hopes to reach their destination. After a prolong minute, the train doors close and we propel forward.

Almost immediately two of the passengers onboard started to argue. A female accused one of the men who was standing holding the overhead railing of inappropriately rest his body against the female standing next to him. A young man about 25 years old join in to support the woman’s claim. The two men exchange harsh words that quickly escalated to a fist fight. The train now approaching 149 Street – grand concourse, people are forcing their way to the next cart that was already congested leaving little space for refuge. I was position to the middle of the train cart making my escape difficult. The alleged criminal was holding a knife and attempted to stab the boy when a third guy jump in, and pepper sprayed the accuser. The alleged criminal started to bump into people looking for ways to relieve himself, as a result the passengers are tumbling over each other in fear of the man holding the knife. I got pin on the poll located in the center of the cart as I began to fell a great desire for oxygen. The train is now on the platform but is awaiting police to address the matter while me and the other passengers inhale the poison from the pepper spray.

Finally, the police find their way to the platform and the train conductor open the door. I started coughing as the blast of fresh air replace the tear gas that once occupied my bronchial tubes. This incident was my learning lesson to never board a park train because there is always a next train in New York City subway system. That experience enables me to always be aware of my surroundings, award people with personal space and, if possible, to always position myself towards the conjoining door of the train cart where escaping to the next cart is feasible.