G Train

The G train into Manhattan one morning is unusually late and unusually crowded. At each stop, as person or two get off, and a dozen more try to get on, the conductor asks several times for passengers to get away from the doors, and promises that there is another G immediately behind this one. The car I’m in is Beijing-packed full of commuters who are becoming increasingly late for work.

The conductor tries again at each stop, with increasing frustration. “There will be another G along momentarily. Please step away from the closing doors. There will be another G along momentarily. Please remain on the platform, there will be another G train momentarily.”

Finally a faceless passenger at the other end of my car shouts back: “No there ain’t!”