The Circle of Life: A Round Trip

By Duane Scott Cerny

Recently, a man entering New York City’s 28th Street subway station threw two cans of flaming fire at a group of people awaiting a train. Thankfully, no one was injured but I have a few issues.

Most media coverage has been using the word “allegedly” and though the word may be litigiously necessary, it’s not particularly accurate.

Clearly this man has some serious mental issues. I hope he is found and receives much-needed help. However, unless this fire-tossing pitcher was channeling his inner-Prometheus, or thought a scout from the Mets was nearby, the word “allegedly” misses the point by a train car length.

Let’s look at this from another perspective. First, were there witnesses? Yes, the people waiting for their train who smartly dodged the tin fireballs. Not “alleged” witnesses. Witnesses. If a scarecrow had been on the platform heading to, oh let’s say, an audition for The Wiz, he’d be toast. Scarecrow toast, but still.

Second, did you see this disturbing event via surveillance video as shown on most news networks? If “yes,” you didn’t “allegedly” see this. You saw it. And though videos can certainly be manipulated, I’m guessing the MTA is spending more time looking for subway earthquake cracks than potential crackpots.

So, this “allegedly” happened? No. If you disagree, I’ve a spontaneously combustible copy of Fahrenheit 451 to throw at you.

I believe this disturbing incident falls under the “holy crap” variety of crime. Not “allegedly” holy crap, but holy crap-holy crap.

How can the MTA possibly combat this flaming curiosity of violence short of providing us all with catcher’s mitts? You must admit, if we all tossed these burning cans of fire back to the alleged pitcher, he’d eventually burst into alleged flames, and we could move on to other alleged matters.

Now this issue is not unique to New York City. Public transit allows everyone to ride regardless of mental stability. The bar, understandably, is non-existent. My empathy would never disallow transit service for anyone. But let’s be honest. There are many members of the public you would not invite over for a barbecue. Or fondue. Or provide a match.

We’ve all seen the public do many rather disgusting things while on the bus or train: eating, drinking, smoking? Please. Clipping toenails, flossing teeth, stripping naked. That’s any day of the week. Taking a dump? Urinating? Please, 2.0, no. I can assure you someone is urinating on someone else’s shoe right now and not in a water-resistant sporting footwear test.

You may not wish to be aware, but the public has every type of sex imaginable on public transit. If Caligula were alive today, he’d have an unlimited yearly transit pass. With his sister, of course.

And if a woman went into labor on the subway, someone would inevitably social media shame her of (wo)man spreading.

Finally, and not to be cold, but there are dead people riding public transportation every day. It’s the primary reason you can’t get a seat that isn’t moist. That and the stench of decaying flesh.

Yes, the circle of life, as repulsively disgusting as it often is, is dizzily real. Real eating, real drinking, real smoking, real toenail clippings, real flossed food flying, real nudity, real urine, real feces, real sex, real birth, real death.

But what is the trifecta of no-nos on any given public transit bus or train across the country? Recorded messages continually reminding us of three great sins: smoking, drinking, and gambling. Yes, gambling. As if riding public transportation wasn’t a gamble in and of itself.

And when I say this, I mean… of course… allegedly.