no clearance in niche

So yeah I had one of those “no clearance in niche” dreams again last night where I fall into the subway tunnel for one reason or another (I dropped my ipod this time), and of course the train starts coming, I’m all frantic, trying to climb back on the platform (which is just too high for me to get back up obviously), and my only recourse then is to test the validity of that famous slogan you see everywhere: no clearance in niche. Um. But each time, just as I squeeze my body into that rectangular hole, as worried subway-goers yellingly remind me, “Wait! There’s no clearance in that niche!” (as if I’d forgotten), just as those headlights draw near and that enormous metallic knife is about to presumably chop me in half, I wake up for crying out loud! I wake up sweaty, half-relieved that my spinal-cord wasn’t severed, but half-frustrated (maybe it’s actually 30/70 in favor of frustration), cause part of me really wants to know, is there actually for real no clearance in that niche? Even for me? Someone who just recently found out after a visit to The American Museum of Natural History (and I don’t mean to toot my own horn or anything) that he’ll only weigh .620lbs on the surface of Haley’s Comet? Even no niche-room for me?

Anyway, I’ve always (since birth practically) been curious why they put that warning there in the first place? Did some over-confident (perhaps over-plump as well?) MTA worker once get caught on the wrong side of an oncoming train falsely-thinking, “Oh I have clearance in this niche, no big deal.” Then, SQUOOSH. “What happened to Fred?” “Well he thought he had clearance in that niche.” “You mean that little rectangular thing?” “It’s deceivingly small, Bill.” “Really?” “Well Fred was over-plump too.” “Maybe we should put a sign there just in case.” “Fred was fat just admit it.” “Yeah you’re right. Talk about a crash diet.” “Wow Bill, you’re on fire tonight.”

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Filed under tall-tale-ish musings, throwing it out there

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