Nausea on the Subway

For regular subway riders, the terms MTA, Flooding, and Nightmare go together like Peanut, Butter, and Jelly. Although I primarily rely on New York City's intricate subway system as a form of transportation (I don't know how to drive), I always feel as if its plumbing is third-world-esque because it always fails when it rains.

After my Thoreau lecture last night, I looked outside to find that the little teaser cloud we recieved earlier in the afternoon had turned into an angry, angry monster. Everyone without an umbrella was crowded in the main lobby, waiting for the rain to subside - but I was eager to go home. Another girl from my class offered to share her umbrella with me, and we took brave strides through the pouring rain. Once we arrived at the subway entrance, the three bottom-most stairs were submerged in water and we looked at each other, wondering whether to return to the lobby, or take a dive into the splash pool. We closed our eyes and a few seconds later, we heard the lovely beeps granting us access into the subway.

As it was fit for queens, the train was awaiting our arrival and we ran into one of the cars only to find disappointed faces, and a train that was temporarily stranded due to flooding. At this point, the AC was beginning to make itself noticeable and I felt a cold mass stick to my back. My shirt had gotten wet. For a brief moment, I had this overwhelming urge to rid myself of my skin - the mass on my back was becoming unbearable and I had begun shivering. I became nauseated by the sensation of water on my skin.