You’re waiting on a crowded subway platform. The MTA has announced service interruptions. You’ve read the notices, and you’re pretty sure you know where you’re going. So you wait. And wait some more. You peer down at your phone. And pace. Until rage begins to snake its way through your veins like morphine through an IV. Twenty minutes passes, and you can feel that flicker of madness barreling toward you down the dark tunnel of your mind, when, finally, a train arrives. Slowly, in a drunk’s lurching, stumbling, stagger, it draws to a screeching stop at the platform. The cars are packed, tight as sardines, a mass of arms and heads and hands.
You realize there is no room in the car in front of you. The idea of waiting an unknown period of time for another train — with no promise of a better situation — sends you into a panic. In a frenzy, you run along the row of cars, searching for one with just enough room for you and your companion to fill a space. You see it, and charge through the door just as it closes. And in less than a second, the nauseating odor hits you. Cue the music, then fade to black.
“The Empty Car at the End of the Train” is just one of the many real-life horror movies New Yorkers can find themselves in. (“Rent Hike” is another one.) So what do people do in a city where scary stuff is a way of life? They adopt Halloween as their holiday and celebrate the heck out of it. We were scrolling through the endless list of parties and events around town when we stumbled across Brew at the Zoo.