the campaign has been around for awhile, but these days it seems like every other bus carries an ad larger than most nyc apartments that proclaims:
and what, if anything, came of all this telling? certainly no terrorist plots were foiled, nary a bomb was defused, the lid wasn’t put back on the poison gas cannister moments before a bevy of tired midtown commuters streamed into the subway-car-cum-narrowly-averted-coffin.
a few years ago, at the most absurd height of the government-induced anti-terrorist panic, someone called 911 during the morning rush hour to report a suspicious unattended brown paper bag on a subway platform. NYPD’s riot and bomb control squads responded promptly, the subway line was shut down, the would-be passengers shooed out into the street, where they would be safe (even if terribly late for work).
the bag contained a half-eaten sandwich.
last summer, there was nearly a riot at the post office in my neighborhood when one of the postal clerks, apparently obeying the letter of the law (if not the spirit of brotherly love), saw an unattended briefcase leaning on the wall beside the PO boxes and, without making any kind of an announcement, threw it out the door and into the late harlem afternoon sunlight, where it did not sit for long. when the owner, a slight and elderly black man who apparently couldn’t hold the briefcase while wrangling his package through the bulletproof pulldown window, finished his business and turned to pick up the bag, it was gone. really gone — not only from the nearby wall where he had set it down, but also from the street where the clerk had flung it. wallet, house keys, important papers… personally, i’m not setting any bag of mine down anywhere in public unless it’s touching some part of my body: one foot slung through the shoulder strap, squeezed between my knees, on top of a foot or right in my lap. the old gent was reckless with his bag, but if he should have been concerned about the possibility of it being stolen, he certainly should NOT have been worried about it being thrown into the street like a sack of garbage.
the real problem with both of these stories, ridiculous (and funny!) as they may be, is that this is precisely how the government wants us to live these days — afraid of and suspicious of absolutely everything. spend half an hour on the subway and you’ll hear at least two fear announcements — the ubiquitous and utterly tiresome “if you see something, say something” chestnut paired with various reminders to keep your bags close and your eyes open at all times, be alert to danger at every moment.
but actions speak far louder than words, and if the MTA had a real concern i guess they’d pry those lazy-ass clerks out of the token booths and get them inspecting the stations. they’d arm the conductors and block the ends of stations so that not everybody who feels like it can stroll down onto the tracks at any given moment. (a woman was raped on the subway tracks a couple of weeks ago, just yanked off the station and down into the dark. everybody must have been so busy looking for unattended sandwich bags that they didn’t notice the son of a bitch dragging her off the platform.)
token clerks haven’t had a job to do since the MTA stopped making tokens a few years ago. they don’t sell metrocards, they don’t make change for the metrocard machine. they allegedly give directions, but as the booths are flanked by massive (and massively detailed) subway maps, no one has much to ask them. apparently, they are not allowed to read — this, i have to believe, as believing that none of them WANT to read, that they actually prefer sitting in their little fluorescent-lit booth, hands folded primly on the counter, gazing off into the distance, is too disheartening.
but that’s all the evidence i need that “see something, say something” is a load of bull.
