Path Train Rush (Short Stories: By Quim Cardona)

Traveling through the guts of the earth to get across to the Big Apple. The voyage begins in the heart of Newark. Back when I was small I was able to slide right through without paying. Playing around with the system only leads to trouble. A breeze of hot air blows on your face as the train arrives in the station. The train greets you with a horn. On busy days the train wouold be packed like sardines. Today we have a whole car to ourselves, Aaaah. Skate posse from New Jeru rolls thick. "Yo German bust a beebox, let me rhyme for three stops, touching this like the 3rd rail, you'll get shocked!" My brothers hanging on the bars doing some stretches, Thoi Tran's huge grill laughs at the whole scene. Bobbie is in his world writing tags on his skateboard. Big Brian is out in between cars smoking while the train is moving along. Someone asks me "yo Quim, How do you bust switch ollies and tilt your back foot like bruce lee, is that from yoga?" "Has anyone evver been to the freakshow circus?" "Yo Sons, Devs, what you piece lately?" We talk just about anything to get to where we really wanted to be and that's skating outside free as those dirty pigeons. The time is soon. We approached our destinaion. The train conductor on the loud speaker says, "World Trade Center".
Thoi continues to laugh the air is silent. People pour out like a glass of water. We climb up our first set of stairs. I catch a butterflies in the stomach every time. I don't know why, it just happens. The next flight of steps is the greatest jump start to get ahead. Are boards touch the pavement as soon as we exit out through rotating doors. It always is a rush to get to the banks. It wasn't the case to see who gets there first, it tis just the burst of energy you feel pushing as hard as you can down the street. Passing by taxis, crowds of people waiting for the bus. I catch a few smiles while we zip on through. All you hear is our wheels on the hot blacktop streets, making sounds of thunder. Bombing down the little hill to the Brookllyn Banks, it
s a wrap! An introduction unto another day to shred N.Y.C.