 |
The cast of Spamalot.
|
The block of Fulton Street surrounding the subway station was a mess of shredded gray cobblestone. Hardhats bobbed in trenches below me. I picked my way through bootlegged copies of recent films, Gucci handbags, and designer perfumes. “One dolla! One dolla! One dolla!” mumbled a man with a scarred ice chest of bottled water. “One dolla today, three dolla tomorrow… maybe five. Get it today.”
Beyond the fare
card turnstile, the subway platform was a stifling pit (maybe I should
have bought the water). The northbound Number Two was a blessed respite
from the triple-digit sauna. The air-conditioned express train
whooshed through destinations made famous by decades of movies and
television. “The people ride in a hole in the ground,” I thought,
recalling lyrics from Gene Kelly’s film, New York, New York.
