Like Forcing Toothpaste Back Into the Tube

I’ve never felt closer to strangers in my entire life. … Okay, I’ve never been closer to strangers before. I didn't feel much emotional attachment.

I can’t say that I’ve been to an Eric Clapton or Red Hot Chili Peppers concert, so I also can’t say that the Tube (London Underground for all you yanks) at 9:15 a.m. is the densest acre of humanity. But I can say that it should rank in the top three. I’ve never had to sacrifice so much personal and geographic space to maintain my claim to two square feet anywhere else.

So, I get off the Central train at Holborn this morning to get onto the Piccadilly Line to go to Green Park where my internship is. (I picked that route because, as I told another intern, I love the sound of “Piccadilly.”) That first train wasn’t very crowded, by the Tube’s standards (no intimate person-to-person contact) but I had arrived at the station later than I had the rest of the week, so I expect the next train to be a little more populated. I run down the escalator, keep my eye out for the southbound platform, stand behind the yellow line next to the track, and wait. To my chagrin, the next train will come in four minutes, which totally goes against the usual train-a-minute routine I had grown to expect in my… three days… of riding the Tube.

As the four minutes tick by, more potential passengers enter the platform and stand behind the yellow line with me. And more. And more. And more, until I get the feeling I’m gonna have to get skinnier quickly.

The train arrives. It’s stuffed with people. Like jelly in a doughnut, like cheese sauce in a Hot Pocket, like crème in a Double-Stuf Oreo. My eyes get wide ( O.O ) as I see the massive cluster of beings and wonder how I can shimmy my way into it.

The doors open, and I see everyone is thinking the same thing. …Well, I assume it. See, people don’t show much emotion on the Tube. It’s common courtesy not to say anything, because apparently Britons like silence when they have nothing else to do but wait for a tram to take them to work. As such, their faces are as stoic as an Olmec temple on a children’s game show as they hang onto the overhead steadying bar. They’re the same way on the platform before boarding. But as they shuffle and glance at other people, I can tell they’re jockeying for the coveted next-to-the-door position. I can tell because ::avoids eye contact:: I’m acting the same way.

People get off the train. The successful shufflers get on. Some hangers-on slide in. The desperate one finds an unclaimed spot. And I’m left on the platform, looking to the guy next to me with a “You dropped your ice cream cone, too” look.

I know I have to get on. The next train doesn’t come for another five minutes, and if I don’t get on here, I’m gonna be late to my internship. I don’t see any space, though, without making someone press their face against the window glass.

But then… an opening!

Granted, it’s right in front of the door, and someone’s pretty intent on not moving, and I’d have to move my backpack to my front to make sure the door doesn’t close on it, and I might have to rely on the proximity of people around me to make sure I don’t fall when the train moves, but even with all these thoughts in my head, one statement prevails: “I can’t be late.” So, I push my way onto the train...

and after almost falling backward, I take my two square feet. I move my backpack to my front. I find a good stance to steady myself against the train’s jerky start. And then I realize my head (MY HEAD) is in the door’s way. With nowhere else to go, I rest my head against a woman’s back, in her blonde hair. That’s right: in. her. blonde. hair. I can’t imagine how awkward SHE felt.

I stay exactly where I am from Holborn to Covent Garden, where THANK GOD! people get off. My two square feet suddenly become a square yard! I enjoy the rest of my train ride to Green Park, confident that I’ll get to the Science Media Centre in time.

…

I walk past my turn. I'm five minutes late. ::facepalm:: Fortunately, my co-workers don't notice or say anything.


[Next post: a synopsis of the first three days of my internship]