Damn it.

Work is over. You're burnt. Fried. Done-zo. Your day of terrible meetings, missed opportunities, overpriced soggy lunch, and shooting back pains is no more. You burst out of your office and briskly walk to the subway while simultaneously checking your phone's messages and finding your favorite ipod playlist. It's summer and finally feels like it; you yearn for the comfort of the subway's air conditioned cars.

Suddenly you're concerned. Beneath your feet you feel a rumble - the rumble. Nothing matters more now than speed walking your ass to the train that is literally below your feet. You've been here before - gliding gracefully through slow moving tourists and inconsiderate cell phone yackers. Down the steps, around the corner and through the turnstile in one swipe. Scale the steps and squeeze through the doors as they close. Home run. Grand @#$%ing slam. You're on your way home.

Then there are days like today. Train beneath your feet. Subway entrance a reachable distance away. But as you close in on your destination you are hit with a wall of frustration. And by frustration, I mean exiting riders.



This blurry, sore-sight-on-the-eyes picture is of the last person making their way up the steps. Down I went to an empty, humid platform. Down the track - is there another train close behind? Darkness. Nothing. Awesome.