There’s a rule in New York City that when you look your worst, the coolest things will happen to you.
Awww, yeah, like that. That’s super hot. Not winning any beauty competitions like that, I’m surely not.
Anyway, on this, the morning after two great parties (clearly!), taking an F train uptown when this antique vintage NYC subway train pulled up across the platform. I looked at the boyfriend, he looked at me, and with a silent exchange punctuated by a slide trombone, we dashed for it.
The “holiday train,” as it is called, was HOT! HOT HOT HOT like I was not. Electric fans flapped overhead at the cars jerked and rumbled down the tracks. Not a single wicker-woven seat available! No choice but to straphang from the creaky, metal handles overhead and read the ads selling war bonds and Grape-Nuts! OH it was glorious! It was just like being in one of my favourite movies, On the Town! All the fantasy of being on an old-fashioned subway ride, minus any threat of actually being chosen as Miss Turnstiles: