Before the Sun Is Up

I love riding the subway before the sun is up, stepping onto the C train at 6:31. A security guard gets on at the next stop, his jacket embossed with a One World Trade Center patch, clutching a water bottle and a banana in one hand, all of his other belongings stuffed in various pockets. A woman, bundled under earmuffs, starts her morning makeup routine, applying purple lipstick and curling her lashes. With a soft-sided briefcase slung over his left shoulder, a finance bro grabs hold of the handrail, staring into space.

I switch platforms to the F train, opting for minimal walking to arrive on time for my 7:10 fitness class. I find a seat among all of the sleepers: one who nervously opens his eyes each stop; another clutching his backpack; and a woman in scrubs with over-the-head UBL headphones on. At 2nd Avenue, a tall man in ripped jeans gets on, holding the bar with his left hand while sipping on a Zero Sugar Monster, the white can. My eyes look up, catching a digital advertisement for Asana, my project management tool of choice. Then my eyes look down at the white, Nike training shoes, the brown loafers, and the taupe Crocs.

Where is everyone going? When you ride the subway at 8:31, everyone’s headed to a 9-to-5 job, where they will swipe their building badge, make coffee in the office kitchen, and exchange details of fun plans from the night before or the night ahead. Those subway rides are vibrant, gossip-filled commutes, punctuated by jokes, chatter, and even spotting a friend from afar. At 6:31, people could be headed anywhere, to the schools they teach at, the construction sites where they work, or the gyms where they work out. It might as well be a career fair, with such a rich diversity of workdays ahead.

What the early morning riders share, though, is a commitment to silence. Most people are traveling solo, and if not, they are still keeping discussions with their fellow riders to a minimum and at a whisper. The unspoken rule that mornings are meant to be quiet follows the same rule as the lights dimming on an overnight flight, letting everyone know that the time has come to pipe down and relax. The morning riders don’t require tuning out what’s going on around them, since nothing is going on around them.

On days when I get a later start, I find the subway overwhelming, with couples talking, people squeezing into seats, and so many people running across the platform to switch trains. If I wasn’t awake yet, the subway ride jolts me into the day. I prefer the quiet mornings, enjoying the silence with others around me, wondering where the train will take them, what lives they’ll return to when the day is done.