A recurring theme in my investigation of urban data this semester has been understanding the role cleanliness plays in the way we navigate urban space. Perhaps I am fastidious, but I often catch myself dodging stray trash on the sidewalk, circumventing miscellaneous gunk, and sometimes changing my route to the subway because I refuse to see the carnage of a dead pigeon a few doors west of my apartment. This is also true of olfaction. Smells that I perceive to be foul shift my attention in space and encourage me to stand in particular places to avoid them.
This semester, I have reflected on the role of sanitation in determining how clients use the MTA. From my observations, there were dramatic differences in the condition of some stations. Living in Central Harlem, I sometimes take the 4/5/6 train from the station on 125th Street, which is heavily policed and poorly maintained. It sometimes smells like pee and smoke. Only three blocks west, the 2/3 station on 125th is usually spotless. I’ve noticed that at the 4/5/6 station, clients tend to scan the platform to find a place to stand and wait for the train.
Three times, particularly during late-night commutes uptown from Brooklyn, I encountered the MTA sanitation crew doing their routine deep cleaning of the subway platform. I hadn’t seen this until this semester. I was surprised by the method of cleaning the platform, which consisted of drenching the entire platform with soapy water and hosing down virtually all surfaces.
The cleaning process made the space difficult to walk through, given the amount of water. I saw a woman slip and fall dangerously close to the ribbed yellow surface marking the edge of the platform. I found the negotiation between cleanliness and safety in this instance curious and a bit alarming. On another occasion, I was accidentally sprayed by the crew, which soaked me more than I expected. The cleaning process seemed to produce an obstacle in and of itself, despite its directive to avoid obstacles in the form of debris and waste.