If by “elites,” Gingrich means people who can’t afford to own cars or take taxis; who don’t mind keeping an eye out for rats as they wait God knows how long for a standing-room-only train; who are willing to spend 40 minutes next to a lady with whooping cough while basking in the smell of the semi-conscious homeless man laying all the way at the other end of the car; who have no choice but to put up with panhandlers, gropers, proselytizers, straight-up insane people, crying babies, break-dancing teens, spaghetti fights, garbled announcements, unexplainable delays, unexpected route changes, and the occasional elbow to the kidney, then yes: “Elites” are the ones taking the subway in Manhattan.
