As a certified non-driver¹, I’ve been dealing with the sights and sounds of public transportation for as long as I’ve been alive. 29 years in New York City, and I could probably write a book about those sights and sounds, especially during the ’80s and early ’90s, before Rudolph Guiliani began the process of de-fanging and Disney-izing the Big Apple.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen blood on any of the seats, though. I’ve seen an entire subway car of people hit the deck after someone pulled out a gun. I’ve seen more than my share of fainting passengers. Dogs, cats, birds on the train (in addition to the occasional human head-sized rodent.) I’ve witnessed people getting caught in train doors, getting in shouting matches with conductors, all sorts of chemically-induced altered states and more than my share of bodily functions. If you know me in person and get me drunk enough, I might tell you the story of how I once evacuated an entire subway car thanks to my gas. But never blood on the chairs.
My friends Dando & Carlos Halston would like to talk about blood on the chair, though. It’s the title of their latest single, a song that conjures up images of the New York City subway system in its colorful, strange glory days. Of course, they’re from Boston, so they might be directly referring to the infinitely more sedate T (with no panhandlers, no stickups, and nowhere near as much cropdusting.) They also just may have wanted to pay sideways tribute to Michael Jackson’s “Blood on the Dance Floor.” Nevertheless, check out the song and its charming video.
¹-I have my driver’s license, and if held at gunpoint, I could operate a car. But fuck that shit.