Essential New Yorkers left on subway platforms

Your alarm goes off. Groggily, you shut it off and sit up on the edge of your bed, doing your best to mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead.

Then up you go, another morning routine for the books. No time for breakfast this morning as you run out the door, but not before saying a quick goodbye to the ones you hold dear.

You cross the street, run down a flight of stairs, and sprint past those waiting along the edge of the block for the next crowded bus as you hear the upcoming train overhead. You climb up a new flight of stairs, push through the double doors, and swipe through the turnstile with just enough time to squeeze in between the mass of people inside before the train doors shut and move on to the next station.

You made it, although there is no moment for relief as there are no more seats, and at least four other bodies press up against you, annoyed that yet another person made it in before the bell chimed of closing doors.

After a few stops, many exit, only for even more to enter. Finally, your stop, and as quick as you entered, you exit down a long path with echoes of water pipes dripping, teenagers mumbling, the occasional beat blasts from someone’s too-loud headphones, and the overwhelming smell of those who seek shelter here through the cold nights.

Up the stairs to not-quite-so-fresh air, briskly past the mass of people, stopping at your favorite newsstand for today’s paper and a mediocre cup of joe, before walking into the office ready to start another day.

This is what a typical New Yorker experiences on a daily basis. Except now, nothing about our days are typical in the city that isn’t supposed to sleep. We are New York strong, that’s for sure. But the new virus in town has brought us to our knees.

No more are the streets crowded with tourists as you push through simply trying to make it from Point A to Point B. Instead, we have all been sent to our homes to stay inside until this vicious virus can subside.

Of course, this isn’t the case for those labeled “essential” to keep the city turning. While many have the luxury of staying safe in their beds able to bicker about being quarantined, more than you know still wake at the sound of the alarm to begin another day of work. Except now it seems more like a game of Russian roulette. Each moment outside poses a risk to themselves, and the ones they love most.

But what does it mean to be “essential”? Every day we hear about the nurses, doctors, police officers and firefighters who still show up to stand at the front lines to wage battle against COVID-19. But there are so many more who work behind the scenes to keep our city afloat.

They are the delivery people who bring you your excess supplies and 48 rolls of toilet paper. The service workers who work tirelessly to wipe down surfaces, change hospital beddings, and mop floors.

They run the trains and buses we always have depended on.

They are the men and women who still have to show up to make sure your lights stay on, gas and heat, and that your basic human rights stay protected.

And how do you think these hundreds of men and women are traveling to their now undesired destinations? They are still New Yorkers, of course, and our main source of transportation has always been our imperfect Metropolitan Transportation Authority. While the number of riders has dropped dramatically from the city’s norm, still hundreds depend on our mass system of transit to get them where they are needed most.

But while they are in high demand, the city has reduced its number of viable transit, a minor attempt to “lower the curve,” a term so aggressively used nowadays.

However, isn’t it possible that this reduction of service will ultimately undermine the demand of social distancing?

There are still so many who rely on our train system, and instead of a mass array of transportation, too many people are left on the platform waiting for delayed trains, desperate to remain at least six feet apart on the small platforms stuck between railings.

Maybe it’s time to take a more aggressive approach if we truly want to reduce the number of hospital beds needed. Maybe, just as the rest of the city, the MTA should be temporarily put to rest (with adequate pay, of course).

And instead of those deemed “essential,” should be shuttled into work, more forms of private sanitized transportation to reduce the risk of public exposure.

Maybe there are other options our governor and mayor should consider and explore. But one thing is for sure, reducing transit service while the need for essential personnel remains high in-demand works against our goal of protecting our fellow neighbors and friends.

Social distancing is nearly impossible on slivers of platform in unventilated underground stations, and the curve will never lower if our necessary workers continue to be stranded in unsanitary conditions simply trying to get to and from where they are needed most.

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