New York reached a new low this morning. I arrived around 10 at the 116th St./Columbia University station. I was running way late, but didn't really care. We wrapped up trial last week and, if my attorney was running to form, it would be a while before I got another assignment. As it happened, I was right; noone noticed me slinking in an hour and a half late, and noone got around to giving me work to do today. This is, however beside the point. The point is that I was at the 116th St./Columbia University station around 10 AM, long after the rush hour crowd had passed through.
I arrived shortly after a downtown train had passed, which meant I wouldn't be able to catch another downtown train for at least a few minutes. As is my habit when I've got time to spare on a subway platform, I made my way to the far end of the platform so I could board a less crowded car when the train arrived.
That's when I saw it, around a car-length and a half from the end of the platform. A small pile of poop. Real, honest-to-goodness poop. It was sitting perched about a foot from the edge of the platform, in around the place people stand when waiting for the train, as though it was patiently awaiting the next train's arrival so that it could hop on and take a trip to South Ferry. There were no footprints in it, so either everyone had managed to avoid it during the rush hour or some harried commuter had decided that he couldn't wait until he got to the office and relieved himself on the platform.
So I ask: At long last, New York City, have you no sense of decency? I've tolerated the vague urine smell that permeates the city, the unfortunate byproduct of a populace that treats every upright structure south of the Cloisters like a urinal, but poop? On a subway platform? Really? Have we sunk so low?
