While New York City Sleeps…
Like secret agents on a spy mission, we run, one by one, to the door of a building at 63rd and 3rd Ave. It is my first time there, and I am amazed that the door is indeed broken and permanently left ajar. Once we’re inside, we keep quiet, following our leader, the veteran graffiti writer, Bom5, down the stairs into a world I was unfamiliar with at the time. I did not know what to expect, as I had only seen the subway tunnels from the perspective of a passenger. The first thing I notice is the explosion of graffiti, covering just about every inch of the stairway walls. I take a minute to admire tags and pieces done by various legends before Bom tells me that there’s much more to see downstairs. We arrive at the tunnel, where the warm subway air gives no indication that it is a numbing 19 degrees outside. As the only rookie in our group of four, I am hesitant about the path we take into the tunnel, which is the piece of wood that covers the active third rail. The thought of the powerful voltage running inches beneath my feet only adds to the excitement of it all. Following behind Mast, he casually tags his name underneath each of the dim lights that illuminates the tunnel. Strangely, it seems safer than the above-ground sites where we usually paint, where canines guard train yards and police patrol the streets. This thought is interrupted by a subtle breeze and the distant hum of a train. We all know what to do, as we pick up the pace to find the nearest outlet from the tunnel. We find one, and seconds after, watch the subway cars pass. We notice that the outlet we used as shelter from the train is actually a hallway that leads to another set of small stairs. We decide to explore and see where it leads us. I am amazed to learn that it leads us into a larger hall, where dark, mysterious rooms lie on both sides! With a flashlight, I stand in the doorway, looking into the carved out space. I can only wonder what the purpose of these huge underground rooms are. Right then and there, it dawned on me, that I had never experienced the real New York until that moment. 



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