a color story: the party in the subway

Friday night. Manhattan. Second time on the subway. After an uncomfortable situation standing on 50th and 8th, missing our train wasn’t such a big deal- at least we weren’t being verbally harassed for not sending a dollar for a meal. But, wasn’t that part of the New York City experience?

C subway line South. Our destination, Soho was 11 minutes away and we just missed the train. Time to cool down. Decompress. We were at mercy of public transportation- it was this or walking an hour. The latter option would have made this story obsolete. People slowly join our wait on the platform. With nothing to do, I looked for rats on the railroad tracks. A thing I did back in the Toronto Subway System. 1 ratatouille, 2 ratatouille, 3 ratatouille, 4. Ooo where will that chunky one end up on these floors?

An older gentleman with his daughter — I assumed — made their way on the platform. Oh no, the green dress. My ego assumed that they read my recent work, “The green dress and the air force.” If it was so, It was the best to form of flattery and she wanted to be part of the next color story journey. I kid. I kid. Of course, this was silly talk. I’d like to think that nobody read the series- there was real freedom writing towards the abyss. No expectations, no pressure, all fun. Regardless, the green dress coincidence or her shy demeanor of being around such good-looking people left hints of … hahaha I got carried away again.

I didn’t dare look down at her feet. If they were white air forces. It just would have been too coincidental. Nobody wore a green dress and white air forces. One was too many in New York City. Two would be chaotic. Unless I wasn’t aware of the new trends in that style via Instagram and such, why was this coincidence so prominent? Did I suddenly find green dresses attractive after the alpha-walking experience? Ohhh la la. Princess Fiona. Oooo. Princess Fiona. Please don’t turn into a Shrek. Please don’t end up like me. Jeez. I got carried away again. She did have a resemblance to Kaia Gerber.

Accompanying the princess, the man wasn’t someone who was showing affection to the green dress princess but more of a protecting agent or a guardian. The man looked like a younger version of Mayor Bloomberg- perhaps he was his son. If so, was I in the presence of a superfamily? Unofficial royalty of NYC? What do I owe the pleasure? As we were the only ones on this side of the platform.

To keep my bored mind accompanied, I kept the silly story going. The ratatouilles hid in the rails and they weren’t even cooking. What were Kaia Gerber and Mayor Bloomberg’s Son doing here? Why were they riding the NYC subway? Could the convenience be worth all the risk? Were they here for the Broadway Shows? I felt like I was in the proximity of NYC Lannisters; I can’t believe I was breathing the same subway air. There was no fancy Patek Phillipe watch to prove it. There was no certain clothing brand that I’d recognized. It was their posture, the way they waited, their composure. This bored instinct of mine suggested an aura of old money. Just super-wealthy people who wanted a dose of NYC culture or even become part of it. With all the tall skyscrapers and lavish parties lifestyles, would they want to have a glimpse of the ratatouille battleground? Or a different perspective? Regardless, what were they doing here? The deeper the pain, the deeper the connection?

Next was the lightly drunk group who had just come out of their fun pre-party. Not college but probably reminiscing the old days. NYC campus was on the other side of town, after all. But, it seemed like frat boys of finance bros. This youthful camaraderie added another energy to the old money. The pure expression of love in the group showed their history of going through events thick and thin. The deeper the pain the deeper the connection?

Maybe they were the knights of the Lannister army and they didn’t know they were in the presence of their lord. Hahaha, I was getting too carried away with the Game of Thrones analogy. I could see the knights or soldiers straighten out if they recognized their boss’s boss’s boss. Or maybe the degree of superiority was way too much that the connection didn’t exist. The deeper the pain, the deeper the connection?

The train arrived. Our collaborative party entered. In a weird way like going through a neighborhood with aggressive driving and honks ultimately adding some energy to the area, seeing the man sleeping on the bench initiated the vibe with a whimsical scent that you couldn’t escape the New York Streets. My physical limitations within the confined space required a different escape. Not looking down nor looking midway, I’ve found the upper hexagonal ceiling edges to be quite Wes Anderson. Yes, the director’s distinct style might have been left in print on the old train. Warm faded beige, yellow and brown. A color motif was found in his boy scout movie, the Darjeeling unlimited train, and even his interpretation of a Roald Dahl novel. Could he have stolen the color palettes from the ruins of this train? If so, I wasn’t complaining. I wondered if this color choice was the original design? Or did it judge fade out from all the wear and tear? Was Wes Anderson’s storyline interpretation just faded out colors — ultimately providing a distinct warmth to each shot?

At the next station, another set of finance bros loudly made their entrance. I don’t know what they were so excited about. The markets were deeply in the red. The whole train later discovered that they went out in celebration of one of their birthdays. Not in an obnoxious sense, but the birthday song was a quite inviting celebratory invitation. You couldn’t help but participate and sing. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear …… The group only mentioned the name and the anticipating awkwardness added only a set of public laughs. Wow. Wasn’t that a polarizing experience?

Then, I noticed Princess Fiona bumped into me. I ignored it- it was probably an accident. I turned my head and noticed that she towered over me. I hoped she wearing heels but I dare not look down at her foot apparel. The low probability of white Air forces was still a chance. Then, I took the chance to see her face a bit closer. Using the good old window reflection technique, an indirect exposure, she caught me to the chase. It could be the embarrassment of being caught in the sneaky spying action or the possibility that she might be looking my way, I turned the other cheek. Her ‘dad’s presence was unwelcoming at least from my perspective. I didn’t even dare to look in his direction. I could imagine just one text and I was a goner. Hahaha.

But, there was a sadness in her eyes. One that felt familiar. Her gazelle-like stance contracted as she sat on the orange cushion beige subway seats. It seemed like she didn’t get involved with the free public Birthday celebration as it may taint her family brand. A restrictive action that only Royalty had to think about. Or I was just overthinking the situation. Maybe this was the cultural experience she couldn’t find on the upper penthouse floors in her father’s circle. But even if she was out in the town, poor Fiona was stuck in the castle.

SOHO destination. We got off. I knew this was the highlight. Diminishing returns proceeded as predicted. The raw energy in that train still hasn’t escaped my mind. From the growling finance bros, Wes Anderson interior, and the green dress with Bloomberg, how could one not be mesmerized by such a simple vehicle, a simple human experience, with a dash of imagination, of course?