Half Girlfriend (1)

44
I stepped out of the apartment building. Cold winds slashed at my
face. My phone showed the time as 11.12 p.m. and a temperature of 20
degrees Fahrenheit, or -6.6 degrees Celsius. People were all bundled
up in gloves, caps and jackets, i saw a group of four friends walk
towards the 86th Street subway ahead of me.
Fresh snow had made the pavements powdery and white. The
group of four and 1 reached the subway stop. We took the steps down
to the metro. Some African-Americans were coming up the steps.
‘It’s not coming, woo hoo, no train tonight...’ said one of them in a
drunk voice.
‘How am I going to get my ass to Brooklyn?’ his friend said.
‘A hundred-dollar cab ride, baby. That ass deserves it,’ another
friend said. They all laughed.
I reached the customer services counter. A plump African-
American lady from the Metropolitan Transit Authority, or MTA, sat
inside. She made an announcement into a microphone.
‘Ladies and gentleman, due to heavy snow, we are experiencing
huge delays on all lines. A train is stalled in the network near Grand
Central. We are trying to remedy the problem. We suggest alternative
travel arrangements.’
I checked the station clock: 11.19 p.m.
Google Maps suggested the subway would have taken me to
Bleecker Street in seventeen minutes. From there, it was a nine-minute
walk to the cafe.
‘How much delay?’ I asked the customer service officer.
‘Who knows, honey,’ she said. ‘It’s snow. Half an hour, an hour,
two hours. Take your pick.’
I ran up the steps and came out of the station. Cold air sneaked in
under the jacket’s collar and down my neck.The road had little traffic.
I waited but no empty cab went past.
I asked a passer-by, ‘I need to go to the West Village urgently.