Posted by We sat in the hard, orange-colored seats as we watched the sea of humans pour through the subway doors. People stood, stacked up in front of us, clinging to handholds and rails. Pungent wafts of weed, body odor and a hint of flatulence filled the air, much to the displeasure of my wife.
There’s a moment on every New York City subway ride when you realize you’re not in control. It might be when the train lurches to a halt between stations. Or when a saxophonist starts playing three inches from your ear. Or when a stranger’s backpack is wedged into your ribcage and there’s nothing you can do about it except breathe and accept.
The subway is a masterclass in surrender.
And in that surrender, something surprising happens: we grow.
Tolerance: The Unspoken Social Contract
On the train, you coexist with people you didn’t choose. You share air, space, sound, and sometimes unavoidably, smells. You learn to tolerate the guy muttering to himself, the kids blasting music, the tourist who keeps asking if this is the right train to Madison Square Garden. You don’t get to curate the experience. You don’t get to filter the feed. You don’t get to mute the world. And that’s the point.
Tolerance isn’t built in quiet rooms with people who look and think like you. It’s built in crowded subway cars where the only way forward is to accept the humanity pressed up against you.
Patience: The Train Will Come When It Comes
The subway teaches patience the way a strict parent teaches discipline… firmly, repeatedly, and without apology. You wait for the train. You wait for the doors. You wait for the person blocking the exit to realize they’re blocking the exit. You learn to breathe through delays, shrug at reroutes, and accept that the universe does not care about your schedule. The subway is a slow drip of humility, reminding you that your time is not always your own.
Vulnerability: You’re Not the Main Character Down Here
Riding the subway strips away the illusion of invincibility. You’re underground, in a metal tube, surrounded by strangers, trusting a system you don’t control to get you where you need to go.
You’re vulnerable. And weirdly, that vulnerability is connective. You make eye contact with someone who’s also exhausted. You share a laugh when the conductor’s announcement is completely unintelligible. You help someone with a stroller because there’s no elevator in sight. The subway forces you to be part of a collective, whether you want to be or not.
The Paradox: Tougher and Softer at the Same Time
This is the magic of the subway: it builds toughness while giving you the opportunity to express compassion. You become resilient because you’ve navigated chaos. You become sensitive because you’ve witnessed humanity up close. You become adaptable because the system demands it. It’s a strange alchemy… grit and empathy forged in the same furnace.
Meanwhile, in the Cul-de-Sac…
Contrast that with life in a cul-de-sac, where the world is curated by design. You leave your climate‑controlled home, step into your climate‑controlled car, and glide through a landscape engineered to minimize friction. You wave to neighbors who look like you, drive to stores filled with people who live like you, and return home without ever having to negotiate space, noise, or difference. It’s comfortable, predictable and safe.
But it’s also isolating. You don’t have to tolerate much. You don’t have to be patient. You don’t have to be vulnerable. The cul-de-sac is a bubble, and bubbles don’t build character, they preserve it in place.
Why the Subway Matters
Cities don’t thrive because they’re easy. They thrive because they force us to rub up against each other, literally and metaphorically. The subway is one of the last great equalizers, a place where CEOs and students and tourists and night-shift workers all stand shoulder to shoulder, swaying in unison as the train rattles forward. It’s messy. It’s unpredictable. It’s all the things that we have worked hard to force out of the American life. But in doing so, we exist in sterile environments that never test us and never allow us go step outside of the controlled confines of the housing tract and the SUV.
The subway is a space that forces riders to step outside themselves and see the best and the worst of humanity. It reminds us that life is complicated, and that we can either fight that complication, or we can coexist within it, and use it to make us mentally resilient, eternally patient, and beautifully compassionate.