I ride the subway every day. I ride it multiple times each day. I have not seen a single person over the age of 13 who is happy on the subway. This is true of all public transportation. Everybody gets on the subway and immediately has to pretend that they are having the worst experience of their life. I’ve never seen somebody so confused as to when they had to act like they were having a horrible time winning their game of bejewled on their iphone.
This is also New York City, meaning that 90% of the women are beautiful enough to make an appearance in my imagination later that night when my hand and penis are wrestling. This combines with the first paragraph’s statement to make the subway a place where a bunch of sad, beautiful people gather. It’s the only place you’ll see this because beautiful people typically don’t have reason to be sad because society gives them everything they want. Not on public transit. We’re all equals when we’re waiting for the jackass who is holding the door open and sitting in piss-stained seats.
That’s why I love the subway. I love seeing beautiful people suffer.