01/10/2014 10:30 am ET Updated Mar 12, 2014

8 Emotions the NYC Subway Makes Me Feel in the Middle of Winter

Dan Hallman via Getty Images

Here it is. We're in the thick of it. It's January in New York City. By now you've maxed out your Starbucks holiday gift card, homemade cookie consumption, and your tolerance for other individuals in small quarters. You're seasonally depressed, you're three to nine pounds heavier than you were before Christmas, and your patience for public transportation is at an all time low.

The subway has reached maximum capacity because sweet Mother Nature decided to drop some serious winter on us all, and walking anywhere is pretty much out of the question. The East River is half frozen, street corners are littered with a slew of abandoned Christmas trees left to die, and your trains are seething with a combination of leftover tourists and germ-slinging natives. Let's be honest, January in NYC is like single life after 35; cold and dark with absolutely nothing to look forward to. In my opinion, there is no place colder or darker than the NYC subway in the middle of winter.

This is how you might feel if your daily commute, weekend adventure, or miscellaneous wanderings lead you into the subway...

1. Subway time! You hop down the station steps like you're in an urban inspired pop music video right after you just told your friend from out of town, "I'm now a pro with the subway swipe, I don't even break stride anymore, call me Swipey McSwiperton," and the train is coming...

2. With your "I'm the man, here I come" subway attitude, you simultaneously swipe and go, and subsequently slam your nuts/lady parts right into the turnstile. "Mother f*cker!" And now you're sweating. "Please swipe again." Really? Your swipe was flawless. This can't be.

3. Second swipe, this time slightly faster, with a little bit more wrist action. You even bend the knees a little to get just the right angle as your friends stare at you in pure disgust, and you hear "stand clear of the closing doors, please." You're an instant failure. You move to turnstile number two and then turnstile number three. Bend and swipe. Faster, slower, faster, slower. The response is the same, and now you've created a traffic jam of people who loathe your inadequate existence. On to turnstile number four.

4. "Swipe card again at this turnstile." Oh, the humanity! Now you're stuck. If your card doesn't work here, it won't work anywhere, and they've already deducted the fee. You look up at your friends, and in a glimpse of shear madness you mouth the words "I'm gonna jump it..." Your "who gives a f*ck" friend is waving you on, while the perfect stranger next to you shakes his/her head in a subtle attempt at saying, "don't make the same mistake I once did..." And you don't jump... but you want to.

5. Insufficient Fare: This is it. Your life is over. You mutter "I swear I just put $20 on this card, this is horsesh*t," as you retreat to the back of the station through the chaotic stampede of rush hour NYC like an inebriated tourist going the wrong way in a classic "Running of the Bulls." The next train is rapidly approaching...

6. Just go on without me... You've absolutely lost all hope, and are now publicly admitting defeat. You shout to your friends, "just go... just go, I'll find you," as if missing the next train meant losing everything. Your friends throw their hands in the air so as to say, "I remember my first subway ride," and you shout back, "it's not my fault!" You finally get to the card machine and jab violently at the touch screen as fast as you can to select the "refill your card" option like you're playing a giant game of Candy Crush (f*ck that game). Your emotions are running rampant...

7. Redemption: Your credit card works on the first swipe, you quickly put your zip code in, and you begin to breathe easy... there's a light at the end of the tunnel, literally.

8. "You will be charged X amount of dollars, is this okay?" I mean, no, it's not okay, but what are you supposed to do? The train waits for no one...

And no... you don't want a f*cking receipt.

This post originally found on NYC Food and Travel.