The Subway Between Us

There’s a very specific feeling every New Yorker knows.

You check the MTA app.

It says the train is arriving in 2 minutes.

Then suddenly…

“Delayed.”

Now, you’re stuck underground with 200 strangers, sweating through your shirt, wondering if the subway system was designed by raccoons with power tools.

And yet…

the next morning?

We all go right back down those stairs again.

Because despite all the complaining…

the NYC subway is still one of the most incredible things about this city.

Especially for someone like me.

Running Boomernology‍ ‍means I spend a huge part of my life moving through New York City.

Upper West Side.

Midtown.

Queens.

Brooklyn.

Downtown apartments with river views.

Old pre-war buildings with elevators that sound like they fought in Vietnam.

Walk-ups that make you question your cardiovascular health.

And somehow…

the subway connects all of it.

One tap.

One train.

One human being going to help another.

That part still amazes me.

Because most people think my work is about technology.

Printers.

Passwords.

Wi-Fi.

Smart TVs.

Phones.

And yeah…

sometimes it absolutely is.

But honestly?

The subway reminds me every single week that this work is really about connection.

I’ll hop on the train carrying a laptop bag and a backpack full of cables…

and 45 minutes later, I’m sitting at someone’s kitchen table listening to stories about their grandchildren.

Or hearing about the concert they saw in 1978.

Or helping someone finally figure out how to send photos to their family after months of frustration.

That’s the real job.

The tech is just the doorway.

I’ve had clients tell me:

“I was embarrassed to ask for help.”

That one always hits me a little.

Because a lot of older adults aren’t “bad with technology.”

They were just never taught patiently.

Big difference.

Imagine being handed a device that updates itself every 6 weeks…

with passwords, notifications, pop-ups, scams, subscriptions, cloud storage, and settings buried inside menus that look like airplane cockpit controls.

Most people would get overwhelmed too.

Especially if every time they ask for help, someone sighs, rushes them, or makes them feel stupid.

That’s why patience matters.

And weirdly enough…

the subway teaches patience too.

You learn how to slow down.

You learn how to deal with delays.

You learn that not everything moves on your schedule.

Some days, the train flies into the station perfectly on time.

Other days, you’re sitting there listening to:

“Signal problems ahead.”

Honestly?

That’s technology too.

Sometimes things work beautifully.

Sometimes they don’t.

You breathe.

You figure it out.

You keep moving.

And over the years, I’ve realized something else.

The subway gives me something most jobs don’t:

a front-row seat to humanity.

Every car is a different story.

A tired nurse.

A teenager blasting music through dollar-store headphones.

An older couple holding hands.

A dad trying to calm a screaming kid.

A college student asleep on a backpack.

A grandmother carefully holding flowers.

Millions of people.

All trying.

All carrying something.

That perspective matters.

Especially now.

Because we live in a world that moves fast.

Too fast sometimes.

Apps update overnight.

Phones change yearly.

AI appears out of nowhere.

And a lot of older adults feel like the world quietly stopped waiting for them to catch up.

But here’s the thing I wish more people understood:

Older adults built this city.

They raised families here.

Worked impossible jobs here.

Survived blackouts, recessions, layoffs, heartbreak, and change long before smartphones existed.

They are not weak because technology frustrates them.

They’re human.

Honestly, some of the strongest people I’ve ever met are my clients.

And every subway ride reminds me why this work matters.

Not because I’m “fixing computers.”

But because every apartment I walk into is another opportunity to help someone feel connected again.

Connected to family.

Connected to confidence.

Connected to the modern world.

Sometimes all it takes is helping someone learn one thing:

How to FaceTime.

How to print photos.

How to use Google Maps.

How to order groceries online.

How to stop being afraid of touching the wrong button.

Small wins.

That’s where confidence starts.

Not giant breakthroughs.

Small wins.

And maybe that’s why I’ve grown to appreciate the subway so much.

It’s messy.

Loud.

Late.

Chaotic.

But it still gets people where they need to go.

Kind of like life.

Kind of like technology.

Kind of like all of us, honestly.

So yeah…

like every New Yorker, I’ll still bitch when the train is delayed.

Probably loudly.

But tomorrow morning?

I’ll tap my OMNY again.

Because somewhere in this city…

someone is waiting for help.

And more importantly…

someone is waiting to feel less alone.

One subway ride at a time.