As the train to Ronkonkoma pulled into Penn Station, Jason Lockhorn threw his arms up, bending his elbows like goal posts. But he wasn’t a frustrated commuter. He was dancing.
And he wasn’t the only one. Nearby, a man and woman twirled in the sinuous style of partner dance called Brazilian Zouk and groups of K-pop dancers swerved their hips in unison. Passengers flowed out of elevators, some stopping to watch, some rushing by with their luggage.
“If you ever want to find the culmination of what New York is as a culture, but expressing itself through dance,” Lockhorn, 24, said, “this is a good place to find it.”
Penn Station, the transit hub for hurrying commuters and Amtrak riders, has a side gig. Its wide, lower level corridor — specifically the passageway leading to the Moynihan Train Hall from Track 7 to Track 16 of the Long Island Rail Road — is an unlikely dance studio.
Officially called the West End Concourse, the corridor has a lot going for it: It’s easily accessible, the floors are spacious and smooth, and there are public restrooms, a rarity in New York City.
It’s a ready-made stage for all sorts of group and partnered dance, including hip-hop, K-pop and salsa. Reflective glass windows overlooking the tracks double as mirrors. Rows of blue lights overhead make for pleasing visuals when filmed. The biggest draw? It’s free.
Lockhorn, who leads the Foolish Funkateers, a Campbellocking or locking group, said his group began dancing at Penn Station last year after seeing K-pop dancers post videos from the concourse on social media. On warmer days, the Foolish Funkateers often meet outdoors near City Hall.
But, Lockhorn said, “this is what we call home on days where we can’t do that.”
Groups stake out a section of the corridor, typically spanning one or two train tracks, to make a kind of mini studio. The slanted windows descend into a flat ledge, perfect for resting water bottles, speakers and cellphones that capture polished choreography.
The only drawback, said Destiny Rodriguez, a K-pop dancer with the group V3RS Crew NYC, is that it’s louder than a studio. “It’s more open,” she said. “But we still work with it, and we get everything done perfectly.”
Penn Station’s lower level isn’t really a substitute for a light-flooded New York dance studio. But in Manhattan, renting that kind of space can cost $35 to $150 an hour. It’s a prohibitive price for the dancers, mostly unpaid, who spend many hours preparing for performances and competitions or creating videos for fun.
And the transit hub has at least one thing those studios lack: random audiences who are quickly delighted.
Luke Fletcher, who had come to New York on a day trip from Boston with his 15-year-old son, said he was charmed to see dancers while waiting for his train home. “I just find it amazing,” he said, “that even during the week, they’re doing it.”
Kai Fritz, a K-pop dancer with Not Shy Dance Crew, makes the hourlong trek on the No. 2 train from the Brooklyn neighborhood of Flatbush a few times a week. This is in the early evening, deep into a day that starts with a 5 a.m. barista shift in Bensonhurst, and includes a pit stop at home for resting and stretching before the journey to Penn Station.
“I love to dance, and a barista salary doesn’t get you a whole lot of money,” Fritz, 22, said, adding that the station was the most accessible place for the group to meet.
And then there is the floor.
Paula Naconecy, 35, who was practicing with a small group of Brazilian Zouk dancers, waxed poetic: “It’s slippery. Or, not slippery, but smooth. There’s no tiles, no cracks.”
She’s tried out many spots around the city, she said, looking for the perfect floor, “and this is the best I’ve found.”
A pair of salsa dancers shared her enthusiasm.
“I mean, I’m with my salsa shoes, and I can spin,” said Lizbeth Lucana, who comes in from Long Island to practice more than 20 hours a week with her dance partner Jacob Aliapoulios. “Like, I can do multiple spins.”
Dancing in the concourse is neither sanctioned nor unsanctioned.
“Penn Station is first and foremost a transportation hub,” said Aaron Donovan, the deputy communications director for the Metropolitan Transportation Authority. “But you know, as long as folks abide by the rules and regulations that govern the use of the space and don’t block platforms or interfere with passenger flows, we generally don’t have any problem with what’s going on.”
Naconecy said she had been told to stop filming by security guards. And Fritz said Not Shy Dance Crew had gone unbothered for the most part, but had been asked at times to turn the music down.
The concourse lives in a kind of gray area. Penn Station, Donovan said, is owned by Amtrak, but the passageway is managed and policed by the Long Island Rail Road, which has its own rules of conduct, as does the adjacent New York City subway.
And unlike buskers, who apply to perform in the subways, these dancers don’t fall under a clear jurisdiction.
They don’t perform for tips. They dance for joy, for camaraderie.
Aliapoulios, 32, on a break, smiled breathlessly as he gestured at the commuters and spectrum of dancers.
“You feel like you’re really part of the city,” he said.
Rachel Sherman reports on culture and the arts.
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