I was the first out of the subway car and onto the platform. I then took my first steps in a space that had been closed and verboten to civilians years before I was born. Even though it was lit by dozens of bulbs, it was incredibly dark, and I was Indiana Jones in the mystery and gloom. The space in front of me, one of astonishing, sumptuously tiled arches, beautifully lit by chandeliers and wall lights, was curvaceous and alluring me further into its darkened depths, daring me to explore. For a fascinated rider of the New York City Transit System, I finally was in the crown jewel of its hidden treasures, the City Hall Station. The all too few minutes that I was allowed to stand in this hollowed tomb was tempered only with the knowledge I could come again, and again. And I will, I will.
