The Straphanger Sprint (or Why Must The G Train Torment Us?)

strap·hang·er /ˈstræpˌhæŋər/ [strap-hang-er]
–noun
1. a passenger who stands in a crowded bus or subway train and holds onto a strap or other support suspended from above.
2. any user of such public transportation.

When you live in New York, one of your identifiers is which train you take in your commute from home to wherever you normally go.

"What train do you take?"

"I take the G (*gasp*) to the A or the L."

The G train does not have a good reputation with most people. Some of the reasons I've heard for it's bad reputation include:

-Trains don't run often enough.

-It's the only line that doesn't go through Manhattan.

-Sometimes it turns from a local to an express. (I experienced this once and just watched helplessly as we went speeding past three stations, including mine.)

I just saw on the MTA website that the G was given a D+ grade on its report card by commuters who responded.

Despite all of this, I don't hate the G Train. It's my subway line...

...Though I must confess that I have muttered a few choice words for the train under my breath on occasion (which, in all fairness, could happen with any train).

A couple of days ago I rode on the A Train from Manhattan to Brooklyn. I have to transfer to the G at the Hoyt-Schermerhorn Station. One of the things you don't want to do is just miss your train (see previous mention of the G's frequency). So, I stepped out of the A and the G was pulling in across the platform. The problem is that the G is shorter than other trains, and I was at the wrong end of the platform. So the G train went past me, then kept going, and didn't stop until it was quite a ways down the platform....

....And then I was able to experience another one of New York's great moments. There was nothing to do except make a run for it. It was quite a sight. I joined a whole group of fellow commuters running down the platform towards the G, hoping to make it before the doors closed, ducking in and out of those who were waiting for a different train, careening around trash cans....and we made it. It was great. I felt a real comradery with the other sprinters. And even though we were all from different backgrounds and life experiences, desperation to make the train was something we could all share. It was beautiful.

New York is like that.