The L Train to Brooklyn, at that:
....Within moments, a car of the waiting train was transformed into a traveling bistro, complete with tables, linens, fine silverware and a bow-tied maître d'hôtel. "Is this your first time dining on the second car of the L train?" he asked, as guests filed in.They had been lured by the promise of a clandestine dining experience. ("Please go to the North East Corner of 8th Ave and 14th St," read the instructions e-mailed early that morning. "There will be a tall slender woman there with jet black hair who is holding an umbrella. Please just go up and introduce yourself. Her name is Michele and she is quite lovely, but no matter how hard you press she won't tell you about the adventure you are going on.")The event was the work of several supper clubs, and the menu they devised was luxurious: caviar, foie gras and filet mignon, and for dessert, a pyramid of chocolate panna cotta, dusted with gold leaf. All of it was accessible with a MetroCard swipe (Michele handed out single-ride passes) and orchestrated with clockwork precision.The six-course extravaganza took only a half-hour. It wasn't rush hour, so seating was easy. The tables (lap-width black planks, with holes cut to fit water glasses) were tied to the subway railings with twine. Tucking in behind them felt something like being buckled into a roller coaster. At 1:30 p.m., a few minutes ahead of schedule, the train lurched off.
Hope they didn't serve spaghetti. That could mean problems.