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Nick Greene

Is It Possible to Ride the Entire New York Subway System in a Single Day?

Original image
Nick Greene

During a recent commute into work, I was staring at a transit map so as to avoid eye contact with my fellow passengers when a simple question popped into my head: Is it possible to ride the entire New York subway system in a single day? Coworkers and friends didn't have the answer, so I decided to crunch some numbers:

- If you untangled all the separate tracks of New York City's subway system and laid them out in a straight line, you would get a 659-mile-long trail that, pointed westward from Grand Central Station, would end up somewhere around South Bend, Indiana.

- On Amtrak, it takes 17 hours and 9 minutes to get to South Bend, Indiana.

- 17 hours and 9 minutes is less than one day.

- Amtrak is a train.

- The subway is a train.

- Therefore, it is possible to to ride the entire New York subway system in a single day.

Case closed.

Even though my logic and math are flawless, I wanted to double-check to make sure, so last week I attempted to ride the entirety of New York City's subway system in a single day. It really shouldn't have been too difficult considering that, if done correctly, it would only cost $2.50 and require little more from me than the ability to sit still.

I hopped on last Wednesday, a date just shy of the 110th anniversary of the opening of the New York City subway—October 27, 1904. Now, that anniversary is a little murky. Elevated commuter train lines were operational in Manhattan as early as 1870. Also, inventor Alfred Ely Beach opened his 312-foot-long subterranean pneumatic transit tunnel beneath Broadway that year. Beach's subway operated via wind power; a gigantic fan nicknamed the "Western Tornado" blew a single car back and forth along a track. It was an ingenious contraption and wonderfully loud.

Wikimedia Commons

What the MTA acknowledges as the birth of the New York subway is the 1904 launch of the Interborough Rapid Transit Company, a privately owned, 9.1-mile long, 28-station subterranean train system that ran from City Hall up to 145th Street (that section is now part of the 4, 5, and 6 lines). It was greeted with little fanfare; The New York Times teased the opening ceremony with a single story on page six—headlined "Economical Subway Opening"—and reported that "it was decided that a few dollars might be spent for invitations issued to officials and special guests, but there will be no music, fireworks, or flag waving."

The current New York subway system has 468 stations, and assuming I would be able to succeed with my attempt, I would be seeing all of them. Well, almost—I laid down some ground rules beforehand:

1. I would not exit any station.
2. For multiple lines that run along the same route (e.g. the E, M, F, and R from Jackson Heights to Forest Hills), taking just one of those will count as a ride on all the others.
3. I would have to complete it in one go.
4. No Staten Island. (Sorry Staten Island, I would have to break rule 1 to visit you, and if I break my first rule then what kind of man am I?)
5. I must learn a valuable lesson.

So, with little more than a notebook and the five rules listed above, I hopped on the F train at Bergen Street around 9:00 a.m. and rode out to Coney Island. While every Manhattan-bound train in the city was jam-packed, the cars rumbling in the opposite direction were quiet and sparsely-filled.

After two stops, my lone car-mate departed and the train climbed aboveground. Considering the average weekday ridership of the New York subway system is around 5,465,034, finding yourself alone in a car during rush hour is a pretty lovely aberration. The F and G Trains service the highest station in New York (Smith-9 Sts) which, at 88 feet, offers a pretty lovely view. I gazed out the window and said, "It's all downhill from here," which is a tasty little bit of subway humor if you've brushed up on your MTA fun facts. Good thing no one was there to hear it, as I'm sure they would've laughed so hard they would have pulled the emergency brake.

I rode alone all the way to Coney Island and, at West 8th St, experienced a ten minute delay. It's a testament to the New York subway system's efficiency that this was the longest single delay I faced all day, and I spent it peering out the open door, muttering, "C'mon' c'mon," even though I literally had nowhere to be.

We started moving again and soon the Cyclone and Ferris Wheel appeared out the window. Apparently, cold and drizzly October mornings are slow for amusement parks because no one was riding any of the fun rides.

At Coney Island's massive covered station, I switched to the Q and rode back into the hub of what I began to think of as a pinwheel. I sat across from a European family who had trekked out that morning to pick up Nathan's Famous, and their A.M. dogs stunk up the train. European tourist families are a common sight on the New York subway during non-rush daytime hours, and I noticed that, without fail, they always have at least one item of matching clothing. This family all wore the same sneakers, and the patriarch balanced his soggy bag of fast food on top of his. It was precisely at this moment that I realized I hadn't planned where or how I'd eat lunch and dinner. Naturally, this line of thinking progressed to questions about when I'd have to use the bathroom and—oh no oh no—where I would be able do that.

[Note: There are operational public restrooms at various NYC subway stations, although there is no telling whether or not they will be locked or what condition they are in.]

At Prospect Park, I took the shuttle to Franklin Ave., hopped on the C, transferred to the A at Nostrand, and headed out to Far Rockaway. So far, my commute looked like this:

At about 11:30 a.m., I came across my first Showtime! of the day. (Some background: There are ubiquitous groups of subway breakdancers who shout, "It's showtime!" before performing a routine that can range anywhere between impressively acrobatic to face-kickingly clumsy. Much like John Lithgow in Footloose, the NYPD now considers dancing an arrestable offense; as of April 2014, 46 subway breakdancers were charged with reckless endangerment, compared with two such charges in all of 2013.)

Two little girls clapped and gleefully chanted, "Showtime!" over and over again as the dancers performed backflips in the aisles. The girls' parents groaned and checked their phones the second we climbed back aboveground. As more and more underground portions of the subway get updated with cell reception, the act of checking one's phone at the first hint of sunlight should become obsolete, and perhaps people will start enjoying the view again. (The previous observation was transcribed on my phone, which I took out of my pocket and stared at as soon as I got service.)

At 31 miles long, the A Train is the longest single subway line in New York, and it features the greatest distance between any two sequential stations—Howard Beach and Broad Channel (3.5 miles). This route takes you over Jamaica Bay and you rhythmically rock along a narrow causeway that was literally washed away in sections by Hurricane Sandy in 2012. The MTA had to remove over 3,000 tons of debris in order to restore A Train service to the Rockaways—a process that took a full seven months.

Visiting the Rockaways is worth the long ride, however, even if it's only to smell the sea water and remind yourself that most of New York is, in fact, an archipelago off the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. After my quick trip to the beach(-adjacent elevated subway platform), I doubled back into Queens, where my ride went something like this:

A Train to Broadway Junction --> J Train to Jamaica Center --> E Train to Queensboro Plaza --> 7 Train to Flushing and back again to Queensboro Plaza --> N Train to Astoria.

I had covered considerable ground in Queens and genuinely believed that I would pull this off. Unfortunately, I noticed I forgot a few small areas that I would need to return to in order to cross them off the list. (This would never happen):

High schools began to get out as I made my way to Flushing and the 7 train filled with teens at every stop. A group that got on at 82nd Street had the most incredible conversation that effortlessly flowed from talking about a recent Bobby Shmurda concert ("He didn't even do the dance!") to the ongoing tetrad of lunar eclipses ("A Blood Moon is just a Harvest Moon").

After reaching Astoria I began to think I had achieved some sort of runner's high despite the fact that I had pretty much been sedentary all day. Turns out I was just hungry, and it was in this hunger-borne confusion that I crossed the platform and accidentally got on a Q Train headed into Manhattan. In no uncertain terms, this is where the S Train hit the fan.

We rumbled back underground and, at 59th Street, my sense of time completely abandoned me. I attempted to knock the Bronx off before rush hour (it was already around 4:30 at the time), so I took the 5 Train all the way up to Eastchester-Dyre Ave. and back, only to hit Manhattan again during the busiest time of the day. I began missing trains because of overcrowding and decided to wing the rest of my attempt. Here's how the wheels really started to fall off:

5 Train to 125th --> 6 Train to Hunts Point --> Get off at Hunts Point to unsuccessfully look for a bathroom --> Get back on going in the wrong direction --> Inexplicably transfer back onto a 5 train at 125th --> Get off at 138th Street-Grand Concourse and use the restroom at a Checkers --> Get Back on the 5 and immediately wish I bought food at Checkers --> Take the 2 to 96th Street --> Go uptown on the 1 to Van Cortland Park --> Switch back onto the 2 at 96th Street and head downtown.

On the 2 Train headed downtown, a woman's umbrella accidentally opened and speared me in the stomach. That was a highlight of the 2 Train, because at least there was enough room for her umbrella to open. At Fulton I boarded the J Train, headed over the Manhattan Bridge to the Myrtle M, took that to the Myrtle-Wykoff L, and finally got onto a G Train. A little after 8 p.m., I abandoned my attempt to ride the entire New York subway system. I was tired and wanted a cheeseburger. This is how I did:

Looking at the final map, it's clear that with better planning, an earlier start, and about 18 hours to spare, this feat is perfectly doable, so I stand by my original proclamation.

Some stats:

Duration: Approx. 10 hours, 30 Minutes

Stations Passed: 202 (out of a possible 468)

Lines Ridden: 17 (out of a possible 25)

Showtime!s Witnessed: 2

Statens Islanded: 0

Food Consumed: 1 candy bar from a station newsstand

Longest Delay "Due to Train Traffic": ~10 Minutes

Friends Made: 0  :(

Lessons Learned: A lifetime's worth.

---

Update: The world record was set recently at 22 hours, 26 minutes and 2 seconds. Number of Showtime!s witnessed remains unknown.

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The Hospital in the Rock
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History
Budapest’s Former Top-Secret Hospital Inside a Cave
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The Hospital in the Rock

At the top of a hill in Budapest, overlooking the Danube River, sits Buda Castle, a gorgeous UNESCO World Heritage site visited by thousands of tourists every year. Directly underneath the castle, however, lies a less-frequented tourist attraction: a series of ancient, naturally formed caves with a colorful and sometimes disturbing history.

The entire cave system is over six miles long, and most of that has been left unchanged since it was used as cold storage (and a rumored dungeon) in the Middle Ages. Between 1939 and 2008, however, a half-mile stretch of those caves was built up and repurposed many times over. Known as Sziklakorhaz or The Hospital in the Rock, its many uses are a testament to the area’s involvement in World War II and the Cold War.

At the start of World War II, the location served as a single-room air raid center, but operating theaters, corridors, and wards were quickly added to create a much-needed hospital. By early 1944, the hospital had officially opened inside the cave, tending to wounded Hungarian and Nazi soldiers. After less than a year of operation, the facility found itself facing its largest challenge—the Siege of Budapest, which lasted seven weeks and was eventually won by Allied forces on their way to Berlin.

As one of the few area hospitals still operational, the Hospital in the Rock was well over capacity during the siege. Originally built to treat around 70 patients, close to 700 ended up crammed into the claustrophobic caves. The wounded lay three to a bed—if they were lucky enough to get a bed at all. Unsurprisingly, heat from all those bodies raised the ambient temperature to around 95°F, and smoking cigarettes was the number one way to pass the time. Add that to the putrid mix of death, decay, and infection and you’ve got an incredibly unpleasant wartime cocktail.

A recreation inside the museum. Image credit: The Hospital in the Rock 

After the siege, the Soviets took control of the caves (and Budapest itself) and gutted the hospital of most of its supplies. Between 1945 and 1948, the hospital produced a vaccination for typhus. As the icy grasp of the Cold War began to tighten, new wards were built, new equipment was installed, and the hospital was designated top-secret by the Soviets, referred to only by its official codename LOSK 0101/1.

Eleven years after facing the horrors of the Siege of Budapest, in 1956, the hospital hosted the casualties of another battle: The Hungarian Uprising. Thousands of Hungarians revolted against the Soviet policies of the Hungarian People’s Republic in a fierce, prolonged battle. Civilians and soldiers alike lay side-by-side in wards as surgeons attempted to save them. During the uprising, seven babies were also born in the hospital.

Surgeons lived on-site and rarely surfaced from the caves. The hospital’s chief surgeon at the time, Dr. András Máthé, famously had a strict "no amputation" rule, which seemed to fly in the face of conventional wisdom, but in the end reportedly saved many patients' lives. (Máthé also reportedly wore a bullet that he’d removed from a patient’s head on a chain around his neck.)

The Hospital in the Rock ceased normal operations in December 1956, after the Soviets squashed the uprising, as the Soviets had new plans for the caves. With the Cold War now in full swing, the still-secret site was converted into a bunker that could serve as a hospital in case of nuclear attack. Diesel engines and an air conditioning system were added in the early '60s, so that even during a blackout, the hospital could still function for a couple of days.

The Hospital in the Rock

The official plan for the bunker was as follows: In the event of a nuclear attack, a selection of doctors and nurses would retreat to the bunker, where they would remain for 72 hours. Afterward, they were to go out and search for survivors. Special quarantined rooms, showering facilities, and even a barbershop were on site for survivors brought back to the site. (The only haircut available to them, however, was a shaved head; radioactive material is notoriously difficult to remove from hair.)

Thankfully, none of these nuclear procedures were ever put into practice. But the hospital was never formally decommissioned, and it wasn’t relieved of its top-secret status until the mid-2000s. For a while, it was still being used as a storage facility by Hungary’s Civil Defense Force. The bunker was maintained by a nearby family, who were sworn to secrecy. In 2004, it was decided that responsibility for the site fell solely on St. John’s Hospital in Budapest, who were seen as the de facto owners in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union.

By 2008 the bunker was renovated, refurbished, and ready to be opened to the public. Today it operates as a museum, with exhibits detailing life in the hospital from various periods of its history, as well as the history of combat medicine as a whole. The sobering hour-long walk around the hospital concludes with a cautionary gaze into the atrocities of nuclear attacks, with the final walk to the exit featuring a gallery of art created by survivors of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings.

Another part of the caves beneath Buda Castle. Image credit:Sahil Jatana via Flickr // CC BY-NC 2.0

The caves beneath Buda Castle have certainly had a bumpy history, and walking through them now is chilling (and not just because they keep the temperature at around 60°F). A tour through the narrow, oppressive hallways is a glimpse at our narrowly avoided nuclear future—definitely a sobering way to spend an afternoon.

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Thomas Quine, Flickr // CC BY 2.0
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Weird
Take a Peek Inside One of Berlin's Strangest Museums
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Thomas Quine, Flickr // CC BY 2.0

Vlad Korneev is a man with an obsession. He's spent years collecting technical and industrial objects from the last century—think iron lungs, World War II gas masks, 1930s fans, and vintage medical prostheses. At his Designpanoptikum in Berlin, which bills itself (accurately) as a "surreal museum of industrial objects," Korneev arranges his collection in fascinating, if disturbing, assemblages. (Atlas Obscura warns that it's "half design museum, half horror house of imagination.") Recently, the Midnight Archive caught up with Vlad for a special tour and some insight into the question visitors inevitably ask—"but what is it, really?" You can watch the full video below.

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