Saturday, March 22, 2008

rush hour

I might take some flack for saying this, but I feel that you don't really know what rush hour is until you feel some guy's heart beating against your back. Until somebody in a yellow windbreaker comes up and pushes you and another 15 people further onto the train from the platform. Until you don't have to move your hands to hold on (in fact, you can't move your hands to hold on) because the mass of people leaning against you is too great.

This is crazy, but I don't really mind it. Everybody's pretty chill, and we all just lean and sway as the train goes along. I can't help but be pretty deep into community, at that point--anonymous, crushed, and surrounded by hundreds. I feel pretty safe, too. There's no way a pick pocket is going to get anywhere in the crowd, even if he had room for his hands to get into my pocket. If the train derails, there is the padding of the crowd to save me.

The worst part comes when you leave the train. If you're not at a big stop with a lot of others getting out, it's swimming up stream. A sea of people try to get on, and you have act like a running back doing drills to get out. It can get pretty brutal, but there are never any complaints. Get shoved by a woman getting on the train? So be it. A goofy looking white dude carrying a book didn't spare a second thought knocking you out of the way? Take a number. It's get off the train or don't get off the train out here.

I miss nature, but I am getting the hang of this city thing.