Gen-Z vs the Boomers: An Unusual Subway Encounter

I dashed through the 14^th street station from the L line to the blue line. I barely eked my way through the closing C train doors. Phew! The feeling of JUST making it on the train is deliciously satisfying. Not that I had anywhere to be. But hey, time is money! Or so they say.

I plopped myself on a seat and eyed the people around me.

Scary stories of subway incidents are becoming increasingly common. Always survey your surroundings. Look for threats. Identify any Clark Kents of the train who would dash to your rescue.

There were two characters who struck me.

a pair of girls casually lounging around with their feet propped up on the adjacent seats as if it was an ottoman. Teenagers. Probably 16 or 17. That awkward age where you are old enough to have experienced some of the harsh realities of life, but too young to understand what they mean or how to cope. Their makeup was impeccable, and their outfits on trend- loose fit low rise jeans with simple tight fitting tees. I’m guessing Latina?

At the next stop, a woman wielding two massive Saks 5^th Avenue bags huffed in. She was wearing upscale “it’s a Sunday I’m relaxing and shopping!” athleisure wear. Mid-50s perhaps? Well-manicured nails. Pulled back hair. She exuded an “active socialite with money, but not rich enough to have a private driver” vibe.

The only seats available were taken up by the girl’s white Fila sneakers.

“Would you mind moving your feet?”

Overt displays of money and class can rub people the wrong way… especially New York City teenagers who might not have been dealt the same cards in life.

One girl took her feet down, but the other defiantly inched hers back so that her toes still perched on the seat.

The woman angrily spat, “Move your feet! This isn’t your living room!”

I eyed the girl’s face as she mulled over the right response. She settled on, “Who made you the queen of the subway?”

The woman: “I’m a tax payer. So I do contribute to the subway.”

The girl: “I’m a tax payer too.”

The woman rolled her eyes, let out of huff, and shoved her bags as a barrier between her body and the girl’s toes. As if the power of fashion would create a suitable blockage.

A shared smile and giggle was shared between the teens. The train continued its way up in silence until the girls walked out on 86^th street. The woman gave them some parting words, “You two really should learn some manners.”

Then the real drama began.

A man to my left told the woman she did the right thing by telling the girls to move their feet. Another man chimed down the car with his two cents that she shouldn’t have let it go. A third man took over the girl’s empty seats, and said, “In today’s world…. You just let stuff like that go.”

Man #2 wasn’t pleased.  “I was born and raised in New York, and you have to teach the next generation respect!”

Man #3 responded, “These days, you never know who could have a knife or gun. You just gotta let these things go…”

Man #2 yelled back, “I’m sharing my opinion!!!!!”

Man #3, “ME TOO.”

The two yelled back and forth about how each had a right to their own opinion before man #3 left to exit the train.

Man #2: “Have a nice day.”

Man #3: “You don’t mean that…”

Man #2: “Oh right… I mean to say GO FUCK YOURSELF! That’s right… have a good day but also fuck yourself!!!!”

Man #3 laughed his way out of the car and said, “Come say that to my face out here!!!!!’

The door closed before a fight could break out.

Meanwhile I was sitting in the middle wishing I had popcorn.

How ironic that two teens handled their dramas with quiet sass while two grown men took out their beef via a scream-off.

Another day in New York City.