I have never in all the time I have been in Paris been forced into a metro car crammed full of people until this morning.
When I got to the platform this morning I was struck by the number of people standing on the platform. Normally there are a quite a few other people when I arrive, but never enough to make walking nearly impossible. I thought this strange and was about to write it off as just a coincidence but upon noticing the metro going in the opposite direction stopping and letting off passengers 4 times, I realized that this was going to be a problem.
The metro finally came right as the 5th car going in the opposite direction was approaching and I tried my best to get as close as I could to where one of the metro car doors would be. When the door did open it was already full, presumably of other people at previous stops also importuned by this strange new traffic pattern. I shoved all my American hesitations aside and armed my way into the car alongside the French. To top it all off, just as the annoying buzz that signals the immanent closure of the metro doors began I was shoved from behind by a man who also wanted to get on, but with nowhere to go, I just ended up crushed between him and the woman in front of me.
It was a strange ride, those 5 metro stops seemed to go on forever. And to make the uncomfortable ride even more uncomfortable there was a man 2 people from me sneezing periodically loudly and without attempting to cover his sneeze so we were all forced to endure his germs.
But even in all this the one thing I found remarkable was the comedy and helpfulness the French were able to find in the situation. Concessions were always made to ensure that everyone got off at their appointed stop regardless of how much movement or rearrangment it required in the cramped cars. And room was always made for people trying to step aboard.
Even still, I was unspeakably thankful when the mechanical voice announced "Saint Michel, Notre Dame" and I was able to pop out of the metro car - and that's is not hyperbole - and walk to my class where I decided to look at this whole experience as a cultural experience and set out looking for a place to wash my hands.
When I got to the platform this morning I was struck by the number of people standing on the platform. Normally there are a quite a few other people when I arrive, but never enough to make walking nearly impossible. I thought this strange and was about to write it off as just a coincidence but upon noticing the metro going in the opposite direction stopping and letting off passengers 4 times, I realized that this was going to be a problem.
The metro finally came right as the 5th car going in the opposite direction was approaching and I tried my best to get as close as I could to where one of the metro car doors would be. When the door did open it was already full, presumably of other people at previous stops also importuned by this strange new traffic pattern. I shoved all my American hesitations aside and armed my way into the car alongside the French. To top it all off, just as the annoying buzz that signals the immanent closure of the metro doors began I was shoved from behind by a man who also wanted to get on, but with nowhere to go, I just ended up crushed between him and the woman in front of me.
It was a strange ride, those 5 metro stops seemed to go on forever. And to make the uncomfortable ride even more uncomfortable there was a man 2 people from me sneezing periodically loudly and without attempting to cover his sneeze so we were all forced to endure his germs.
But even in all this the one thing I found remarkable was the comedy and helpfulness the French were able to find in the situation. Concessions were always made to ensure that everyone got off at their appointed stop regardless of how much movement or rearrangment it required in the cramped cars. And room was always made for people trying to step aboard.
Even still, I was unspeakably thankful when the mechanical voice announced "Saint Michel, Notre Dame" and I was able to pop out of the metro car - and that's is not hyperbole - and walk to my class where I decided to look at this whole experience as a cultural experience and set out looking for a place to wash my hands.
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