Unsafe New York Part Four

The deadly Shawarwa or how I almost got squished:

(All acount in this and preceeding and following stories is factual)
It was July 28, around 1am and I was starving. Being a diligent person that I am, I was up for many hours reading English grammar book (for I know that although all of you enjoy my style and occasional misspelling, I have a long way to go in the mastery of a beautiful English language. This task becomes so much more gargantuan because there is no money for the tutor who could soften the impact of your grammar agaisnt my mind) and have started to feel the sharp pain in both my stomach and head.
I needed meat.
Quickly summarizing my options I decide on a plan of action: 5 bucks total in NYC and 1am on a weekeday, I opted for a Shawarwa. An inexpensive, filling, delicious Middetteranean meal had all that I needed: meat, veggies, carbs, and sauce. I hopped on the L - 5 min from my block, and happily rode to the city. After having switched from the L to the platform - to wait for the "N" I've prepared myself for a decent wait. Luckily, I always carry a book with me, and so I did this time. I opened the book and started reading. After around half an hour or so, a train finally pulled up the the station. The door opened. Previously, a few trains have passed by and made unclear announcements about their changed destinations. I was afraid this would be the case with this train. So, I stepped in to listen to the announcement to make sure that at this time of the night the "N" wasn't really a "Q" running on the "R" line.
The conductor suddenly stopped announcing. I kept on listening assuming he will resume shortly. It was a "he" by the way, otherwise I would say "them." Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my right arm. I looked up to see what was going on - if the train was leaving with me caught half way here and half way there - but it wasn't. But the conductor was yelling. The door was strangely closing back and forth, on my body and arms! I panicked and pulled back - maybe we were under terror attack and he was trying to let me know about it! But conductor beckoned me with his large and long black finger and towering with his 6 plus over me even from a distance and cover of his booth continued his increased yelling at me. This all was so sureal, I did not know what to do nor say. I wasn't able to make out the words, but only a distant hissing, which translated into "Miss, Miss, Miss" said as a spell. The other person in the car - another female looked at me to make sure the conductor wasn't talking to her. No, apparently he was talking to me. I stepped forward, rubbing my arm and asking him what he was saying. As I made that attempt, the doors moved again to close against me: it was not an accident then. Was he trying to get my attention by closing a train door on both my arms now? Why was he taking such measures of actually physically hurting me? Were we all in trouble? What has happened? The conductor now started cursing. He was giving no anwers. He was giving no rest. I asked him again, politely, slightly shaken and confused a lot: is the train not running? Did anything happen? This question seemed to really tick him off, he started waving his arms to and fro, screaming and looking at me menacingly. I felt a wave of hatred. But I asked again, I needed answers. I asked again, as loudly as I could manage on an empty stomach and with a hoarse from these tiresome repetitions voice: is the train not running? The conductor said something incomprehensible and I could make out a muffled "bitch." Understanding that the conductor was not going to help me to know if the train was running at all, and if so, to 8th street, I stepped out. I could see him still cursing me as he pulled away, waving one of his arms in my direction. He took a step forward and waved his fist at me. The other girl, intimidated, forgot attempts to ask as well, but only received a curt "get in." She jumped in, shaking and run for the next cover: the seat.
I sat down to wait for another train, puzzled and frustrated: not only he has physically assaulted me twice, now I was going to sit and wait for another train that could come in an hour. It was 2:49AM.

Needless to say, by the time I've arrived to St. Mark's, my hole-in-the-wall was cleaning out it's grill and serviced only falafel. Dissapointed, I had to settle for McDonald's burger and hop back on the potentially abusive and threatening train car.