Como_estas_ke_personajes_saturado_mta

Matías was pressed against the sliding doors, his face inches from his own reflection. He was exhausted. It was 6:00 PM in Queens, and the heat in the station had been unbearable. He felt —saturated by the noise, the humidity, and the sheer number of elbows poking into his ribs.

It wasn't a question from a passenger. It was the opening line of a Ke Personajes track. The familiar, cumbia-fusion rhythm started thumping, vibrating through the floor of the MTA carriage. como_estas_ke_personajes_saturado_mta

Just as the train rattled out of Junction Blvd, the screeching of the metal tracks was suddenly drowned out. A guy in a bucket hat shoved a portable Bluetooth speaker into the center of the car. “¿Cómo estás?” a voice rasped through the speaker. Matías was pressed against the sliding doors, his

He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the cumbia take him the rest of the way home. He felt —saturated by the noise, the humidity,

The 7 train was, as the locals say, "hasta las chanclas"—completely packed.