Here's a story:

So I was waiting on the platform of the downtown 1 (125th St.) for twenty minutes today, which is excessive, even for the relatively slow hours of the early afternoon.

I started to get nervous once it hit 3:15 (the "definitely gonna be late for class" time), so I texted Sam that I was running late (to which he said, by the way, "no prob-- actually don't know what's going on, no one is here and there's a young asian cellist in our room").

I dash into Juilliard at 3:46 (as did Nathan, actually, although his excuse was "I dunno, man, things went down"), and lucky me, Marsha was also running late, so we all chitchatted for a while longer.

And then Marsha gets to class few minutes later, and she tells us this wild story about seeing a guy steal a woman's purse on the subway-- or, a guy who would have stolen a woman's purse on the subway, except Marsha was sitting right next to them, so she GRABBED the purse as he tried to make off with it, they all tumbled to the ground and the police swarmed the station, stopping traffic in both directions.

On the 1 line.

So, yeah, I was late to class. But only because my teacher was foiling subway thieves on the train, and service got backed up for a while.