The Subway

Bill’s hand rested lightly on the escalator railing as he descended into the subway.  11:00 p.m. on a Saturday night and his damn boss had paged him with some emergency on the 29 line.  Not that Bill had been doing much.  He’d been sitting at home in his studio apartment, playing computer games and eating a pepperoni pizza when his pager had gone off.  As a technician for the Boston Subway System he was used to getting pages at all hours of the night and day. 

Reaching the platform, he pulled the collar of his blue BSS jacket as a rain chilled blast of Boston air swept through the tunnel.  Pushing his way through the turnstile he admired the newest additions to the on-going graffiti problem.

“Hey Bill, how’s it goin’?” shouted Ernie waving a half eaten McDonald’s hot apple pie.  One of the homeless people who sought shelter in the subway, tonight Ernie was curled up on a plastic bench with his plaid sleeping bag wrapped around him, a Boston Red Sox cap covering his dirty hair.

“Yeah hey, Ernie,” Bill replied, idly waving his hand in Ernie’s direction.

“Bill, over here,” called Joe Hancock, one of the security guards who routinely patrolled the subway.  A former high school linebacker, Joe’s intimidating size kept the subway relatively free of trouble.

“Whatta we got Joe?” asked Bill, scanning the track, “everything looks fine to me.”

“It’s a bird’s nest Bill, look down next to the track,” replied Joe.

“A WHAT?” yelled Bill, “they paged me out for a BIRD’S NEST?”

Peering over the edge Bill could barely make out a few sticks and leaves as the sound of tiny peeps reached his ears.  Getting down on his hands and knees he frowned as three little brown faces gazed up at him.

“I think you’re gonna have to shut the line down Bill,” suggested Joe.

“I can’t shut the line down for a buncha birds you fool, if they haven’t gotten squished yet don’t worry about it,” answered Bill as he stood up.

“Excuse me sir,” said a soft voice from behind him.

Joe whirled around to see a woman in an oversized Greenpeace sweatshirt and dirty jeans waiting patiently behind him.

“I’m Karen, the one that reported the nest, you’re going to be able to do something right?” she asked, nervously tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear.

“Well uh, I don’t know that we really need to do anything Miss, they seem safe to me,” answered Bill.

The young lady gaped at him, “Safe?  Are you kidding me, what about when they start to fly, what’s going to happen to them then?”

“Yeah, Bill, what’ll happen then?” smiled Joe.

Bill flashed a “shut your mouth” glare at Joe and then turned back to the woman.

“Very well, I’ll see what I can do,” he told her curtly.

Marching down the platform to the control panel, Bill checked the station clock and mentally calculated where the 29 train would be.  After 15 years of working for the BSS he had committed most of the train schedules to memory.  11:30 meant the 29 would be leaving the Dunshill station, six stops down the line.  If he worked quickly, he’d be able to shut down the electricity for this section of track, rescue the nest, bring the track back up and no one would ever notice.  Jesus, all this trouble just for some stupid birds he thought as he pulled open the steel cover of the control panel.  After powering down the electricity he quickly walked back to Joe and the woman, pulling off his thick wool gloves so he’d have a better grip on the nest.

“Ok, let’s get this done,” he said to Joe as he hopped down next to the track, “I’ll hand the nest up to you and you figure out what the heck to do with it after that.”

Bending over, he tugged gently at the nest, trying not to frighten the babies.  “Peep peep peep,” they chanted at him, waiting patiently for him to drop some worms their way.

“Listen fellas, do I really look like your mom to you?” he chuckled as he tugged a bit harder at the nest.  The stupid thing was stuck on something and without his flashlight Bill couldn’t make out what it was.

“Everything ok Bill?” asked Joe from the platform.

“Yeah, fine, I’m just havin’ a little trouble getting the nest free,” Bill answered.

Pressing his face up against the cold track he finally saw what the problem was.  Momma bird had managed to build the nest around one of the spikes in the track and it was holding the nest firmly in place.  Checking the clock again, he realized he only had 5 more minutes left before the 29 would be entering the station.  He looked at the babies, their triangle shaped mouths opening in unison.  They were kinda cute now that he had seen them up close.  But time was running out and if he didn’t get the electricity back up again there was going to be a serious problem.  Jumping back up on the platform he began running for the control panel.

“The nest,” cried Karen, “where’s the nest?”

“I couldn’t get it out in time,” Bill responded, as he raced down the platform.

Karen ran behind him, her sneakers pounding the tile as she yelled, “I can’t believe you’re going to leave those babies there, what kind of a jerk are you?”

After flicking the power back on Bill turned to face her; then opened up his pockets to show her what was inside.

“I’m the kind of jerk who lets baby birds poop in his pockets,” he smiled.