Closing Doors

posted on february 6, 2003, tag: new york

There's a reason subway conductors (and that annoying recorded voice) tell you to "Stand clear of the closing doors, please." It's because when those doors close, they do so with a force that's both frightening and powerful.

I've never been the type of person to force my way through closing doors, due to the fact that I've seen how strongly they close as well as heard the stories of people who get stuck in there and have their arms ripped off. But, unlike me, there are countless people who do it with regularity every day. Every now and then you'll see a look of fear as they grab both sides—almost as if they are suddenly realizing they could get stuck—but usually people do it as if it were actually the proper way to board the train.

Today, though, I witness something absolutely fantastic. After boarding the L train at 14th Street, I watched from my seat as a young woman ran up to the closing doors with a large hard-cover book open in her hands. She managed to get her two hands into the train, still holding the book, just far enough for the doors to close directly on the book in its open state. The doors closed quickly, bending the book obtusely until I heard the spine crack, and then they opened again for a moment before closing again—this time catching the book perfectly horizontally and smashing both covers toward one another, sending pages flying outward.

As if this weren't enough, the doors opened once more and the woman, paralyzed in shock and disbelief, stood staring as the doors closed one final time, taking the book by the remaining pages. She pulled back as hard as she could, and I watched through the window as the train pulled away from her standing there with a mangled pile of paper and board in her hands.

Comments

There are 4 comments, comments are closed