98 Productions Blog

Crazy Train

Hot April evening in NYC.  City’s a flesh-athon of scantily clad people emerging from hibernation, enjoying summer’s preemptive strike!   Time Square is madness.  I board a red line subway headed for the Bronx.  A relaxing Friday dinner with friends.  The train keeps going.  We lose passengers.  Somewhere around 185th street the train comes to a complete halt.  There is no more track.  The train driver’s voice resonates over the intercom, “This is the last stop.  Train will now be going back down momentarily…”  Oops, wrong subway line.  No one in the subway car except me.  The doors are open wide.  I wait to head down to change trains.

A woman wobbles in.  She looks a little down on her luck as she sits holding her stomach and a folder of loose papers.  The subway starts moving.  She grumbles and mumbles.  I think she’s on drugs.  A few more stops.  A man comes in, sits down and reads a newspaper.  The mumbling intensifies.  He doesn’t care.  I finally ask if she’s alright.  “Mam are you okay?” She keeps grumbling… Mumble grumble mumble.  “My waaaaahter”….mumble grumble mumble… “My Water Broke”!  What!!  Her water broke!  She’s going to have a baby!  “Mam, who’s the husband?” “Mario!” she blurts out.  “What’s his number?”  She grumbles the number.  I punch it in my cell phone.  The train keeps running through stops and signal keeps dropping.  More people board our subway car.  I finally get through to Mario’s number.  A woman picks up.  “Hi, is Mario there?”  “Who’s this?”  “My name’s Trevor and I’m on the subway and his wife is going into labor!”  “His WIFE! Mario doesn’t have a wife!”  Yikes!  “Miss, it’s an emergency.” “What’s her name?” I look back at the grumbling lady.  “What’s your name?”  Grumble, grumble, mumble.. “Vanessa.”  “Her name’s Vanessa!”  “Oh, that’s Mario’s sistah!”  “Well can you tell him we’re headed down towards Times Square on the red line and her water broke.”  “Yeah I’ll tell him!”  Click.  Hung up.

The subway car’s becoming full.  No one cares for the beached sea lion moaning in the corner!  We’re headed to Times Square.  “Is anyone a doctor?”, I ask, “This woman’s about to go into labor!”  No one’s phased.   Two stops away from Times Square.  A woman from North Carolina finally replies “I’m a doctor and I can help.”  We stop again.  Times Square!   Exactly where you don’t want to have your baby at 6 O’Clock on a Friday night!

“BREATHE!  YOU ARE NOT HAVING YOUR BABY HERE!”, the doctor commands the sweaty, pregnant woman .  She helps her stand upright.  I run out the train to the ticket attendant in the cubicle and tell him what’s up.  He opens a side stairwell for easy access.

Breathing heavy, the wet, pregnant woman puts an arm around the doc and an around me.   We make our way to the stairwell.   The doctor instructs her to BREATHE!  A construction guy looks at us, and in an unbelievably  calm manner says, “Hey, is this lady going into laaaaayboor?” “YES!” The doctor replies! “Well right this way!”  He assists us in carrying her.  One step.  Up two steps.  Three steps. BREATHE. Four steps.  Five steps.  And finally…

…a balmy, humid, rainy Times Square!  Tourists and pedestrians rush past. The doctor gently sits her down atop the stairs with her folder of papers.  The ambulance waits on the corner.  The paramedics rush to the woman’s aid.  She doesn’t even know where she is.   “It’s going to be okay!” They put her on a stretcher.

She’s calling for “PAPERS!”  I realize she’s lost her papers (probably personal information) amidst all the chaos.  I look down where she was sitting and see nothing but empty concrete.  The paramedics load her in the ambulance.  She screams.  They shut the doors.

Drawing by Trevor Jenkins