As the train makes its way into Midtown, it really isn't until 125th street that one really grasps they're in New York. After spending miles rushing past aging soot covered granite walls below grade in the Bronx, the tracks break away and turn over the Harlem River and down to 125th Street. It's as if someone flips a switch and all the sights and sounds of the city suddenly appear outside as the train pulls into the station: honking yellow cabbies, the aging bus rattling along the road, crowds of people along the sidewalk, and the brick tenements and offices line the street. In that instant everything comes together and the people on the train know, without a doubt, they've arrived in New York City.
