I recently came back from a trip to New York City and Boston, and spent a fair bit of time in their subways.
I love riding public transit. I don't know why. Maybe it is because public transport is full of life. Maybe I like observing people in subways and buses. Or maybe I am just a train otaku. But whatever the reason is, I find myself drawn underground, watching the masses as we trudge through the bowels of the city.
We wait on the platforms, standing on the promise that a train will come. Somewhat on time. Our smartphones tell us this is the place to be, the track to wait for the right train, to the right place, at the right time.
The train is coming, our app says. Oh wait, it is 2 minutes away. Oh wait, it is stopped.
Oh. Wait.
The Red Line. The Blue Line. The Orange Line. The Green Line. Hey look, there is more than one Green Line. It splits into four monsters. Don't get on the wrong Green train. Is it B, C, D or E? Which branch do you go? And what happened to A?
I am Singaporean and this confuses me. Our lines have one colour each. OK, maybe the East-West Line that branches off to the airport is something like that. Oh, and the branch at Circle Line that goes to Bayfront Station at Marina Bay Sands.
I take the Acela Express back to New York City from Boston. It was a pleasant enough ride. Probably one of the fastest trains in the Amtrak network. It is not Shinkansen, but it will do.
I am back in New York, back in the Big Apple. Everything seems larger than life here. Boston is so laid back compared to the bustling NYC. NYC gets in your face. Ain't nobody got time for anything in NYC. Move it, let's go, get out of the way.
But even in the busiest city of America, there are moments of rest. Of respite. And people sit in quiet mornings, waiting for their train to arrive. Sometimes, you even get to be alone for a while. To dance on the platform or swirl around.
Sometimes you notice a fellow taking a photo from across you. And you give him a smirk of mild annoyance.
One day, I got off at Chauncey Street Station, realizing I was heading the wrong way. I wanted to go to Brooklyn Tabernacle. I was going to another church that had a similar name. Time to change direction. I don't want to be late for Tuesday Night Prayer Service. But I have time to take a photo at the Golden Hour.
Some parts of the New York City subway are dark and grotty. Some parts are like modern scifi sets. We go up. Up from the tunnels. Into the sun.
At night, some trains go to rest. The NYC Subway runs all day, of course. But some trains get to rest. Some at Mets–Willets Point, some at West Side Yard.
Even in the City That Doesn't Sleep, Trains need to sleep.
Good night, subway trains. Good night. We shall ride you again tomorrow.
© 2026 Kin Mun "mrbrown" Lee