It always happens just when I’m feeling most insecure about carrying a dog in a sling over my shoulder through the NYC subway system. Just when I’m pushing my way down the stairs against traffic and the eyes of annoyed passengers are daggers full of scorn and judgment. Just when I’ve found myself at a loss for words to describe (explain? rationalize?) to a dear friend why I won’t leave him in the car.

And it happened again this morning.

We get on the parked Q train at 57th and before we can sit down on the empty train a woman calls out to me. She has stopped on her way out of the station. She has separated from the leaving herd and come over to us.

And she tells me that she was having a really bad morning until she saw Archie.

Naturally, I bring him over and he (despite the panting) is happy to be petted. She tells us she’s a photographer and that she was having a really, really bad morning (which is saying something for 8:00am) until she saw us coming down the stairs.

She thanks us, though we did nothing, and leaves with a big smile to go about her day.

She feels better. I feel better. Archie strikes again.

One of the responses I get from people on the subway when they see Archie is some version of “I wish I could be carried like that.”

Now, maybe its a sign of the growing waistline of America and maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never really wanted to be carried around or thought of that as pleasurable.

The litter, palanquin or sedan chair does have a long history around the world, but has mostly been reserved for royalty. And while Archie may disagree, he is decidedly not royal in any sense of the word. The sounds (and smells) he makes are an example of his pedestrian roots.

Does this kind of comment arise from the fact that my fellow commuters are just plain exhausted? Possibly. Archie and I make regular subway runs during rush hour when folks are just waking up or burn out from the work day.

Or is it some fantasy of being royalty? The illusion of being carried through the masses, held aloft, praised (and despised) but always above the fray, above the dirt, off the ground as if flying.

It is certainly not my favorite thing to do — to carry Archie. I think it’s safe to say it isn’t his favorite thing either. He’s too stubborn and proud to enjoy being carried. We’d both be happier if the MTA just gave in and allowed dogs. Anyone who has been a keen observer of the clientele of the MTA subway system quickly realizes that dogs would in no way contribute to the decline of the system or reduce the overall level of humanity.

Really.

I saw a man push a woman out of the way on the stairs the other day and then they got into a shouting match about it.

A walking Archie may actually improve the level of discourse on the subway.

But I digress. The real issue, one I cannot understand, is the desire to be carried. The wish for some sort of relaxation or dislike of walking. A wish that I, as someone who loves walking, who loves having his boots on the ground, never really considered.

Perhaps it’s connected to flying. The dream of flight. This dream is somewhat universal as I understand it so combined with exhaustion it could explain the desire to be carried through life.

I guess the main thing that I find weird is something more personal. The idea that by carrying Archie, I’m pampering him. And then by extension, I’m the type of person who pampers their pet. When in fact, I’m just adhering to the rules of subway (barely).

And sure, Archie is spoiled in many regards, but being carried is certainly not on the list.

I think, for me, it’s the snap judgment about me as a person based on the dog. I’m sure this happens all the time for a variety of reasons, but this particular judgment, this particular perception seems to rub me the wrong way.

Sometimes you meet the most fascinating people — in the strangest situations.

Exhibit #1: The 75 year old man i met on the uptown #3 on Friday night.

He pushed his way onto the train — along with me — and when a person behind us got caught in the doors and pulled himself back out, said, “I guess he didn’t want to ride with the common herd.”

You have to be open to experience and I was coming from band practice and I was in a good mood so I responded and we were off.

It turns out he has seven kids (by different mothers) and one of the things he said to his daughter was, “You’re never too young to die””

She used to tease him about all the things like that he said to her.

She died 3 weeks before her 19th birthday.

And like a good father he whipped out his wallet and showed me her picture.

She was a beautiful young woman.

And this is where we started talking about God. (Coincidentally, the same day, it was released that Mother Teresa even had doubts about God’s existence.)

The man’s birthday is on September 3rd and he wished my a happy holiday (for what I’m not sure — maybe the weekend?).

He said he’s never late to work and he’s never taken a day off work when he wasn’t sick (and he doesn’t get sick).

And that was our brief, yet poignent conversation heading uptown on a crowded subway on a summer’s Friday night.

Just about every aspect of New York life that goes on above ground also takes place underground in the subway system. And when you cram that many people into a confined area, you’re bound to create opportunities. Musicians find listeners. Sellers find buyers. Sinners find redemption. On and on it goes.

And sometimes, lovers find each other.

Now I’m not talking about teens cause everyone knows they’ve got nowhere else to go (or anywhere to be for that matter). They can’t make out with each other in their homes and they can’t get a hotel, so there only option is the PDA. Given their transient nature, the subway is often a favorite haunt.

And I’m not referring to the nice old couple who sneaks a kiss on the train after a night at the opera. While it’s cute and all, it’s also respectable. It’s descent. Seniors generally don’t get dirty in public (unlike the teens).

What I’m talking about is the covert rendezvous. The stolen kiss. The forbidden encounter planned down to the second and geared to occur amongst the crowds to raise no suspicions.

Sometimes if you’re lucky and observant you catch this moment and if they’re good, it takes you a second to realize what just happened.

Times Square underground during the morning rush hour. A man waits at the top of the stairs leading down to the N, Q and R lines heading downtown. A woman walks from the across the open space from the downtown 1, 2, and 3 lines. She heads towards him. There is no recognition at all. Travelers of the world swarm in all directions, each focused on their own destination. Musicians set up their instruments for the first show of the morning. The mans stands dead still. The woman approaches fast with a crowd from the 1, 2, and 3 lines at her heel. She approaches him and in a flash kisses him. They do not speak. Only their lips touch. The kiss is brief but no accident, no sentimental gesture, no hello, no goodbye.

And she is past him heading towards the Queens bound N, Q, R lines.

And he is down the stairs and headed in the opposite direction.

One brief moment. One brief kiss to hold all that emotion. To communicate all that meaning.

I smile as recognition sets in. Spring must be around the corner. At least the sun is shining underground.

Today’s installment in a never-ending series of NYC subway moments, I ran across a man with the right attitude.

To set the scene, Archie and I squashed our way onto the subway (the #1 local heading downtown from 79th Street for the straphangers out there) during the morning rush hour to go to work.

As is often the case, Archie attracts attention for no other reason than people aren’t used to seeing dogs on the subway and especially ones who are so bored with the whole experience that they can barely stay awake.

A woman notices Archie and begins a conversation with me (or him?) saying something to the effect that Archie had it made and that she wished she could travel that way, i.e., carried.

I responded with one of my general, all-purpose, stock responses, “He’s got to go to work like everyone else and earn his keep.”

(As a side note, this was one of those moments when you find yourself the only one on the whole train car talking. Eerie silence fills the entire car as it roars and 500 or so people are in various stages of early morning stupor. You almost become self-conscious of your voice interrupting the silence.)

The train reaches the next stop, the doors open behind this woman and her husband, people cram out, people start cramming in. In one of those brilliant moves, an express train pulls in across the platform and all those passengers who stayed on the local, but really wanted the express, now tried to force their way off the local train to run across the platform — all while passengers from the express (and the platform) are trying to mash their way onto the local.

(For those people who are not good in crowds or freak out at their personal space being violated, please do not come to NYC and definitely do not ride the subway.)

And this is where the story gets interesting. A woman tries pushing her way onto our train and in an irritated voice asks the couple I was talking with to move further into the train. They responded that a. they were getting off at the next stop and b. there was really no more room further into the train car.

The woman pushing her way onto the train responds with a stream of what my fiancee politely refers to as, “F-bombs” which naturally generates a similar response from the people she’s pushing and asking to move.

Fast forward a few stops and I find myself in a relatively empty car talking with the husband of the woman who had been verbally accosted by the pushy rider.

And this is the heart of the matter we discussed — with so much going on in the world, how could someone think that their minor discomfort should ruin their day. The bigger picture in terms of being grateful for your health and your family should always take presence.

Running late does not constitute a bad day.

The fact that the train was crowded does not constitute a bad day.

(Gee, I’m sorry — it’s the NYC subway at rush hour. Are you really surprised it’s crowded?)

And the fact that everyone on the subway is not catering to your wishes does not constitute a bad day.

Nor does it justify verbally accosting people who are already dealing (quite well) with a cramped and uncomfortable situation.

If you’re really that self-absorbed, please take a taxi and stay away from anywhere people gather.

Next time you think you’re having a bad day, take a deep breath and think again. What actually has occurred and is it really so bad? What actually would ruin your day, your year, your life?

Perspective.

There are times in our lives when we find our most private moments occurring in public. It can be embarrassing for us as well as those around. No one plans this to happen and most would certainly try to avoid it, but circumstances and emotions are rarely on fixed schedules. There are certain things our society doesn’t want to admit to — that people are scared, angry, sick or in this case — sad.

I got on the train with Archie and there was a middle-aged woman sitting down across from us looking vrey, very sad. She was dressed in modest business attire with her bag and purse on her lap.

Now, when we get on the train, there is a general staring and amusement at Archie poking his head out of his bag — as well as my carrying him. People smile and nudge their friends and family to point us out. The adventurous ask questions or pet Archie.

This woman was no different. While we we far enough away that she couldn’t talk with us, I did see her notice Archie and smile a little.

Of course, as the train barreled along, she relapsed back into her despair and soon began quietly crying. She looked miserable — face red, eyes welled up and just downright sad. Overall, just a bad day and another person in the crowded subway, right?

Not quite. As people shuffled on and off the train at each stop, Archie and I moved further into the car and soon found ourselves standing next to the woman.

To my surprise, she came out of her depression and offered us her seat. Now, Archie and I decline these offers as it’s more of a pain to situate our selves in a seat than to just keep standing.

But I was impressed that someone so obviously distraught could think of others at the same time.

It also re-enforced my understanding of the power of pets to help people. Archie makes people smile all the time.

I hope the woman feels better.