Page 272 - Half Girlfriend

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I stepped out of the apartment building. Cold winds slashed at my
face. My phone showed the time as 11.12 p.m. and a temperature of 20

degrees Fahrenheit, or -6.6 degrees Celsius. People were all bundled
up in gloves, caps and jackets, i saw a group of four friends walk

towards the 86th Street subway ahead of me.
Fresh snow had made the pavements powdery and white. The

group of four and 1 reached the subway stop. We took the steps down

to the metro. Some African-Americans were coming up the steps.
‘It’s not coming, woo hoo, no train tonight...’ said one of them in a

drunk voice.
‘How am I going to get my ass to Brooklyn?’ his friend said.

‘A hundred-dollar cab ride, baby. That ass deserves it,’ another
friend said. They all laughed.

I reached the customer services counter. A plump African-
American lady from the Metropolitan Transit Authority, or MTA, sat

inside. She made an announcement into a microphone.
‘Ladies and gentleman, due to heavy snow, we are experiencing

huge delays on all lines. A train is stalled in the network near Grand
Central. We are trying to remedy the problem. We suggest alternative

travel arrangements.’
I checked the station clock: 11.19 p.m.

Google Maps suggested the subway would have taken me to

Bleecker Street in seventeen minutes. From there, it was a nine-minute
walk to the cafe.

‘How much delay?’ I asked the customer service officer.
‘Who knows, honey,’ she said. ‘It’s snow. Half an hour, an hour,

two hours. Take your pick.’
I ran up the steps and came out of the station. Cold air sneaked in

under the jacket’s collar and down my neck.The road had little traffic.
I waited but no empty cab went past.

I asked a passer-by, ‘I need to go to the West Village urgently.