By: Leah Goldstein

Like most New Yorkers I am closest to actually stabbing another human being during my daily commute on the subway. That being said, there are also a few rare moments when fellow train riders band together in the pursuit of punishing/ostracizing someone who is acting like an asshole. I find that within these brief seconds of humanity one can gain some significant train flirting mileage.

We all do it—profile a fellow commuter into a possible mate. The magic length of eye contact time (3 seconds) is made, and now all that is necessary is the ever elusive reason to speak. One such perfect storm presented itself right after the fare hike in 2009. The trains were always overcrowded, and “F*CK THE MTA” replaced the usual disappointingly unfunny train graffiti. I was on a packed morning 6 train, holding coffee and NOTHING ELSE (because I’m too short to reach the poles when there are clueless tall people in the way). The train (of course) stopped short, and I spilled a few drops of coffee onto a “sleeping” woman (who was taking up entirely too much room).

“Oh, I am SO sorry!” I apologized, offering her napkins (which immediately got rid of the spill). This woman then had a screaming melt down which may have included: “Ugh! Teenagers!” (I’m not one); “My shirt is ruined!” (It wasn’t); and “I can’t believe this!” (Believe it. And then shut up). Anyway, a group of three freakishly hot males stepped in to defend me: “Calm the f*ck down, lady!” She didn’t calm down, and disgusted (I guess) she aggressively pushed past me to get off at the next stop, successfully spilling WAY more coffee on herself (heh). Unable to profile which of my defenders was the cutest, I asked the three of them: “okay. So…which one of you is going to help me refill this coffee?” I got three numbers out of that encounter.

Leah Goldstein is a writer/musician/social scientist who lives in Brooklyn, and kind of loves having ADHD. You can find her on twitter @thetarhythm

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