Subway Sojourn

When Steve and Leslie roamed around New York, she encouraged Steve take notes about things he saw that were new or that he didn't understand. He even used his phone to take some pictures, which made Leslie very proud of her student.

But when they ventured into the subway, Steve came into his own. Once he got past the new-fangled trappings of electronic signs and magnetic cards instead of chalkboards and tokens, Steve had no problem navigating the subway system. Sure, some of the routes were different, some stations were new, some stations had been renamed, but the bones of the subway were the same as when Steve had ridden them as a child and young man.

He set out confidently to show Leslie around Brooklyn and was amused to find that his "aunt" wasn't nearly so confident.

"You've lived here for 30 years, why don't you ride the subway?" he asked.

"I do. Sometimes," Leslie said. "Look, when I first moved here in the 1980s, the subways weren't safe. There was a lot of crime, a lot of robberies, and there was graffiti all over the cars and the stations. Being from California, all the stories about subways were scary and I only went on them when I was with a group."

Steve looked around the clean, well-lighted station they were in.

"I know. It's much better now. The city has put a lot of work into cleaning up the subways and making them safer." Leslie shrugged. "But my first impression has stuck with me. I'm a California girl at heart. I can drive a four-level freeway interchange with no problem, but New York subways still make me nervous."

"But you need the subway to get around," Steve argued.

"I don't," Leslie pointed out. "I work and shop within walking distance of where I live. My doctor and my dentist are in the same building where I work."

Steve understood that SHIELD medical took care of its personnel right there in the New York HQ.

"I don't even take cabs very often, unless I'm carrying something heavy." She chuckled. "All the walking does help me keep the weight down," she said, smoothing down her "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine" T-shirt and batting her eyes like a vamp.

"But you're missing so much," Steve complained. "Come on. Let me show you around Brooklyn. We'll go to Coney Island and the zoo at Prospect Park."

Leslie perked up. "Can we go to the Bronx Zoo instead? I'd like to see the cobra."

"I suppose. If that's what you want," Steve said doubtfully. "I didn't think you were a cobra person."

"Not usually," Leslie agreed. "I like the cats and the canines, the giraffes, zebras and gazelles. But this is a famous cobra."

"A famous cobra?"

"Yes. Last year, right around this time of the year, a cobra escaped from her exhibit. The staff didn't find her for a week, though they were pretty sure she didn't leave the building because the outside temperature was too cold for an Egyptian cobra. When they lured her out of hiding with wood shavings that had been used as rodent bedding, she was just a few feet from her exhibit."

"That does sound like an interesting story," Steve admitted.

"The funny part was some wit online started a Twitter account in the cobra's name. The snake 'posted' humorous comments and made up stories about her adventures. Comedians told jokes about her. It was brilliant, a nine-day wonder. The zoo held a contest after she was recovered to name her and the people voted for Mia — for Missing in Action. So funny!"

"So you want to see a snake because she's famous?"

"Yes, I'm a celebrity chaser, don't you know." She whispered. "I saw Captain America just the other day!"

Steve shook his head sadly. "Poor woman. Don't you know he's dead. He died heroically in the service of his country," Steve said pompously.

"Nah, if people can believe Elvis is still alive, I'm sure there are some who think Cap is still alive."

"Elvis is who again? A singer, right?"

While Steve navigated them to the Bronx Zoo, they talked about music and conspiracy theories. Leslie was not surprised Steve as unfamiliar with the term UFO but was surprised he didn't know flying saucer either. Her research showed it wasn't popularized until 1947. But he could tell her all about spaceships from Mars. He could speak freely because the only other person in their car was a college student with ear buds and music tuned so loud Leslie could hear it clearly.

"Bucky was a big fan of H.G. Wells, so when we heard Mercury Theater was going to dramatize it, we listened to that show, even though we usually listened to Charlie McCarthy. About 20 minutes after the show started, one of the neighbors knocked at our door. Mrs. Tibbit was crying and begged us to find a telephone and call her sister in New Jersey to see if she was all right. There was only one phone in our building on the ground floor and it had been broken for days. Mrs. Tibbit couldn't leave her grandchildren to go running around the streets looking for a working payphone. But we reassured her that the invasion wasn't real. It was just a radio play based on a book. Bucky even showed her a paperback copy of the book with a lurid cover. She kept asking us if we were sure and was there long enough for the commercial break when the show started making regular announcements that the broadcast was fictional. So I knonw there was one person frightened by it, but she's the only one I knew."

Leslie had heard about the great panic of 1938, so she was fascinated.

"After the show ended, Bucky and I went out to the automat to split a piece of pie and everything looked normal for a Sunday night. We were real surprised to see a story about a big panic in the newspapers the next day. They harped on it for days." Steve shrugged. "Newspapers were always running down radio when they could. They were the competition."

Leslie read that the common reaction to any kind of crisis in those days was to call the police or the newspapers to find out if it was true. Just a few people calling — and being reassured — didn't constitute a panic but would be worth investigating, she and Steve decided.

Their discussion was put on hold when they reached the Bronx Zoo.

In addition to the famous cobra and her favorite animals, Leslie was taken with the style of the old buildings with animal portraits carved into the stone facades.

"I remember when the elephants were inside that building," Steve commented, while Leslie admired the elephant faces in the stonework of the Zoo Center. "It's nicer that they get to be outside now."

"And it's nice that they didn't tear down these lovely old buildings to make way for the new animal-friendly exhibits," Leslie said. "The best of both worlds."

The day was chilly, so some of the less hardy species were indoors out of the cold, but the Siberian tigers happily frolicked like big kittens, which made Leslie's day.

They spend several hours at the zoo, but headed home before the afternoon commute.

One thing Steve enjoyed about the subways was the number of street performers (platform performers). He had listened to one violinist so long they missed their train, but as they descended into the station to return home, they found a drummer performing. He beat a wild African-fusion rhythm on a trio of drums and the echoes filled the cavernous space. Several travelers looked pained, but Steve flinched visibly. His lips went white. "Too loud," he groaned.

He would have retreated up the stairs, but Leslie passed him with a determined step and dangled two $20 bills in front of the performer's nose. The man brought his performance to a halt with a flourish.

"Yes ma'am?" he asked hopefully.

"I hate to bother you," Leslie said apologetically. "But my nephew only recently returned from overseas and loud noises bring back terrible memories. Could you hold back a little, just until our train leaves?"

"For $40, it will be my pleasure," the man said honestly.

Leslie dropped the bills in his bucket and he began to play again, but this time softly tapping the drums in a complicated rhythm.

Steve joined them. "Thank you."

"Anything for a fellow veteran," the black man said, shrugging so Steve could see he wore an army jacket.

Steve studied the man's hair, elaborately braided in tight braids and beads that clacked together when he shook his head.

"Something?" the man asked.

Steve flushed at his lack of politeness. "I was admiring your hair."

The drummer regarded Steve with suspicion, wondering if he was about to be insulted or patronized, but the white guy looked honestly curious, as if he'd never seen a black man before. That was silly. Even if this guy came from some backwoods white enclave, he would have met plenty of blacks when he served. Then the drummer chuckled at himself. Sure, a soldier would see African-Americans, but he wouldn't see dreads!

"Never seen dreadlocks before?" the musician asked.

"Uh, not close up," Steve admitted. That seemed fair, since the drummer was sitting on a wooden crate that put his head just about at Steve's eye level.

"What do you think?" the drummer shook his head to make the beads rattle.

"I like how colorful and elaborate it is. But I think it looks like a lot of work," Steve said honestly.

"It is, but you only have to do it up once a month. In fact, you shouldn't do it more often because you can damage your hair by twisting it so much."

"One more thing I didn't know. Thank you and thank you for your service," Steve said, as his train slid to a stop. He offered his hand and the musician took it, bemused but pleased by the old-fashioned manners.

"Thank you for yours," The drummer returned.

He watched the train pull away, then returned to his drumming, with a little less volume than before. When he started to get more contributions, he decided to save his louder pieces for the open air.

A/N: The info about subway danger comes from what I remembered from the 1970s and confirmed online. I know zip about the New York subways so I made Leslie nearly as ignorant. The Bronx Zoo, however, I see on the Animal Planet series "The Zoo," so I do know they have cool looking old buildings that are mostly used as offices now, while the animals get up-to-date habitats.