You see that fellow there operating that subway train, probably Jacques or Antonio – the kind of reliable working man who’s guided ten thousand commuters safely through the underground tunnels of the big city. Now Jacques, he’s likely spent his whole adult career following the usual routines of public transportation – check the signals, mind the schedule, announce the stops in that practiced monotone that echoes through metal cars like a urban lullaby.
But oh my God, here comes this vision in white, gliding across the platform like she’s descended from somewhere considerably more glamorous than the downtown platform. One look at her – that dress that fits like it was tailored in Paris, that walk that could stop traffic on the Champs-Élysées or the Bowery with equal effect – and poor Jacques’s twenty years of professional conduct just scatter like pigeons in Washington Square.
Now, a woman like that, she doesn’t even have to try. She’s just heading to catch her train, probably thinking about whether she remembered to feed her cat, completely unaware that she’s causing Jacques to forget which lever controls the brakes and which one opens the doors. The poor man’s suddenly wondering if that’s his stop coming up or if he’s supposed to keep the train moving, all while trying to catch another glimpse in his rearview mirror.
It’s not intentional, mind you. Mother Nature just equipped some women with what you might call supernatural abilities – the power to make grown men suddenly develop the decision-making capacity of a subway rat chasing a dropped pretzel. These ladies could suggest taking the express straight to Brooklyn, and fellows like Jacques would find themselves asking not “why?” but “should I skip the scheduled stops, and would you like me to announce your arrival?”
History’s full of such stories. Helen launched a thousand ships, Cleopatra toppled empires, and somewhere beneath the streets of Manhattan, Jacques just missed three stops and announced “Next station, Paradise” instead of “42nd Street,” all because a pretty woman in a white dress happened to be riding his train.
The moral? Well, there isn’t one really. Some forces of nature – tornadoes, blizzards, and beautiful women – simply can’t be reasoned with or prepared for. You just batten down the hatches and hope your wallet survives the storm.
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