The Subway Bimbo’s Story, continued from last week:

"I hear everyone who goes on the walk gets two 'U's.'"
"Two 'U's?'" *Confused look*
"Yeah, you know. It's a science thing. Like Tungsten."
(Note: Tungsten has one U. Its symbol on the periodic table of elements is W.)
"I'm not a science person. My boyfriend is. He's into A- A- Astrolllllogy. *Brief pause* Astronomy."

At this point my ears shut down in protest. I heard nothing from then on but my own blood rushing through my head.

Story #2: Crowds

When I reached Times Square, I started to walk north on Broadway. I exited the train at 42nd street between Broadway and 8th, and I was supposed to look for my group on 45th Street between 6th and 7th. I noticed there were barricades. At about 43rd street some people were crossing the barricades, so I joined them. Of course I'm the one the cop stopped.

"You can't cut through here, ma'am, there's an event here."
"What if I'm supposed to be IN the event?"
"You have to walk back down to 42nd street, cross over to the other side of Broadway, then walk up."

I thought it would be imprudent to ask why the 10 people before me were allowed to cross the barricades.

So I'm walking through what I would describe as a typical Times Square Crowd. I get to 42nd and the far side of Broadway and start trudging north. Instantly I am surrounded by people. A LOT of people. It's like fucking New Year's Eve. And they are walking in small groups, slowly. Many of them are very wide.

Now, most New Yorkers have been in the position where they are trying to get somewhere quickly, and in front of them on the sidewalk is a doublewide person walking very slowly. Imagine there are 100 of them, all wearing outfits similar to the bimbos, all wearing numbers.

I had about 15 minutes to find my group, register, pay my $25 and get my number pinned to my shirt. I was blocks away and surrounded by thousands of close-pressed strangers. A vein in my neck started pulsing. I took deep breaths and slid forward through the crowd.

Somehow I made it to 45th between 6th and 7th. By this point I was sweating. It was about the time registration was ending, and I couldn't see my group anywhere. I had been told to look for a sign. Well, on this block of street there must have been 200 groups with signs! And the signs were SMALL, people. One foot by two feet, lettering about 6 inches high. A sea of them. I couldn't for the life of me find my group. I scanned signs like crazy. People were starting to chant things - protest march type of things. Thousands. Strangers. Pressing. Chanting.

I snapped.

I bolted for 6th avenue, practically shoving people out of my way. My heart was pounding in my throat and I had to get OUT of there. Go, GO GO NOW RUN RUN RUN!!!

Somehow I found myself in front of a Starbucks. I jittered through the door and leaned on the counter. "grandenonfatdecaflatteplease" I rattled. The guy looked at me funny, but he got me the pseudo-drink. I gave him my entire life savings for the damn thing, and lowered myself into a seat at an empty table. There was an empty table. Just when I needed it. Reserved for me by the Goddess herself I'm sure. I held my latte and smelled it and slowed my breathing. I sipped. I breathed. At some point I realized I had legs and they were melting underneath me. I looked down, and everything looked fine, so I didn't worry about it. I eventually relaxed.

A handsome young couple came in with numbers on their chests. They used the loo and left. My heart ached.

I guess the Walk wasn't such a good idea. I'll send them some money.

Rumination: Anxiety

The thing is, I've always known I didn't like crowds, but I had no idea I'd react this strongly. I lived in New York City for about 2 years before I developed this intense dislike of masses of humanity. I lived in my hometown for 24 years and never had a problem. It's only been recently that I avoid Times Square and most tourist attractions like the plague. I don't go to city beaches. I don't shop in malls. I avoid crowds. Maybe this is more than just unfocused misanthropy.

I was once trapped in an elevator for around an hour. Since then I'm slightly claustrophobic. I was mildly assaulted on the street in 1996 and have been distrustful of strange men ever since, but I try not to let it stop me from living life and generally being a nice person. I've had some other close calls over the last 9 years, but nothing that a single girl alone in the city shouldn't expect to happen to her. Nothing life-threatening. My therapists told me that since I was leading a normal life I was probably over it. But don't things like fear of crowds manifest as a type of self-protection? Maybe I'm not as "over" those experiences as I thought.

Anyone know of a good self-defense class on the upper West Side? That might help. Anybody know of a magic pill that makes pointless anxieties go away? I'll write your marketing brochures for it. Oh, and while we're at it, anybody figured out what the meaning of life is?

Well, the Bimbos were funny.