Remember when I was talking about the magic of the New York subway system for anyone who writes fiction the other day? Thanks to my TiVo Suggestions I just watched a perfect example, the “Subway” episode of Seinfeld. Jerry strikes up a perfectly pleasant conversation with a completely naked man on the D to Coney Island, George gets seduced by a grifter who handcuffs him to a hotel bed in his underwear and robs him, Kramer picks up a can’t miss horseracing tip and then gets mugged on the way home with his winnings only to be rescued by an undercover cop dressed as a blind busker, and Elaine becomes the weirdo in some old-time New York lady’s subway story when she reveals she’s the best man in a lesbian wedding, which she subsequently misses because the train gets stranded.
New York City subways are the Rick’s Cafe, the Mos Eisley cantina, the Multiverse of fictional American life.