A Subway Encounter (Pre-Covid)
I want to tell you about an event that happened to me this morning. For a number of years I have had a subscription to the New York Philharmonic, Friday morning 11 am series. So this morning I’m at the subway platform on my way to Lincoln Center for my concert. The train pulls into the station and the first few cars I see are relatively full with many people standing. The train slows and stops and I see that my subway car has a lot of free seats. I’m pleased, it’s always nicer to sit. And if I don’t have to be squeezed right and left, it’s even a more pleasant trip.
But even before the train stops and the door opens, I notice that an elderly white haired woman is standing by the door. I assume she is ready to leave the train but she moves away as the door opens. There are a lot of empty seats, so I pass by her and find a seat on the other side of the car. So now I’m sitting on the seat next to the doorway, opposite to where I came in. The doors close and she moves back to the door, turns around, and is now facing me.
I’m struck by the fact that she remains standing despite all the empty seats. I think, well, maybe she’s getting off at the next stop.
The train begins to move and she reaches out with both arms and grasps the vertical hand bars on either side of the now closed subway door, as if she is barring the door. As we start hurtling down the tunnel, thus supported, she extends her left leg out straight, at what seems like a perfect 90 degree angle. She holds it for a moment and then puts it down. Then she extends the right leg. By now, like most people in the car, I had pulled out my cell phone and was looking down at it but her foot comes into my vision field from the periphery. For a brief instant I wonder if her leg is long enough to hit me. I’m a little unnerved. I’m not used to seeing the tips of peoples' shoes on the subway pointed toward my face.
Then I think, maybe she’s doing her exercises on the way to her physical therapy appointment.
She puts the right leg down and again extends the left, but this time instead of simply holding it out parallel to the floor, she starts rotating it in corkscrew-like motion. Now I’m really interested. What the hell is going on? I know this is New York City but “Hey..”.
Now the left goes down and she’s rotating the extended right leg.
So I turn my attention from the cell phone and surreptitiously begin examine her a little more closely. She is tall and slender, very attractive, with beautiful short white hair. She’s obviously not young, probably in her 70’s I think. At first blush, I thought she must be one of New York’s many crazies, just another of our many psychiatric walking wounded. But I noticed she is dressed not necessarily expensively, or elegantly or smartly but with style. She is a woman who cares about her appearance.
Then I suddenly realize that this lady is or was a dancer. She is using the subway car as a mobile dance studio. She is doing a set of dance exercises on the number one train, heading downtown!
Just then, I remembered that yesterday I was standing by the reception desk in the office while my son Daniel’s secretary and nutritionist were chatting. (We share an office. He is a bariatric surgeon.) They were talking about Twyla Tharp whom one had seen on TV. They mentioned that she was in her mid-80’s. She was not only looking great, but she was limber and flexible and still dancing! I thought, could this be her? If so, what a phenomenal coincidence.
I'm basically a shy person and what one never does (on pain of death) is go up to a perfect stranger on the subway and start up a conversation. I couldn’t resist: At the next stop I got up and grabbed hold of the pole and stood next to her. “Excuse me,” I asked, "are you Twyla Tharp?” She smiled and laughed, and replied, “Yes, how did you know?”.
The truth is I didn’t know. I was just taking a guess. I knew Twyla Tharp was famous both as a dancer and choreographer. My wife Sondra and I had seen some of her work and watched her perform in the 70's and 80's when she was really a presence in New York. At the time, I well remembered reading a profile about her in the New Yorker magazine. So I certainly knew who Twyla Tharp was, but her question seemed to be, how did I recognize her? I simply couldn't tell her that I put '2 and 2 together' after idly overhearing Jo and Megan (or was it Denise and Megan) talking yesterday about some remarkable elderly woman who still remained limber in her 80’s. (Actually, according to Wikipedia, she is only a year older than me, or 78.)
So thinking quickly, I told her that I attended one of the recent performances of her early dances at the Joyce Theatre -- which was true. And that I recognized her from when she came out to take a bow -- which was not true. While I was present in the audience when an elderly white haired woman was brought out to applause, I was sitting too far back to make out any facial features. But she seemed to accept my explanation and again laughed warmly and asked if I had enjoyed the show.
“Yes,” I truthfully told her, “and I’ve followed your work for many years and always enjoyed it. In fact, I’m going to sit down right now and let you go back to it.”
So I sat down and she resumed her barre exercises on the subway and I tried not to stare at her. Two stops later at 66th street, I got off the train and she continued downtown. It would be nice if i could say that as I got off, she gave me a special word, a look, a smile, or a wink, but the truth was, we made no further eye contact. I exited and the door closed behind me. The train started moving along side me as I headed for the exit and I saw her through the window, now up ahead, again moving into position by the door. What a magical New York moment, I thought. Where else could this happen? I went to my concert with a warm fuzzy feeling in my belly.