Sardines

So this is what an empty car on the Northern Line looks like.

I've only seen an empty one once, at about 10:30 on a Sunday night.

Yesterday I got my first taste of what rush hour means to Londoners.

Take a look at the picture again, then imagine that space packed as tightly as possible with bodies. The seats, the aisles between the seats, the space in front of the doors. I didn't get to snag a seat, so I don't know what it's like to be seated for the crush of people. Standing is like one big spooning-fest where everyone is the little spoon and nobody gets to be the big spoon. I've lucked out this far and been sandwiched between metrosexual guys in suits and career women in heels. Lucky because those two types of people bathe regularly and use deodorant and/or some sort of cologne/perfume. I hate to think what it would be like to be stuck spooning someone with less than rigorous hygiene standards. Especially if they're the height of the guy I was next to yesterday, so that when they reach up to grab the ceiling rail to steady themselves, their armpit is right at your nose level. Since it's hard to move around (even re-positioning your feet is tough), you're pretty much stuck between stations. Once the train stops and people get off/get on, you can maneuver a bit, but not much.

If you manage to get a spot between the rows of chairs it's a little more bearable. There's space to hold up a book or newspaper or something so you can at least read while enduring the time it takes to get to your stop. Unfortunately, not even the empty air between the head of the person on the seat and yours helps alleviate the stifling scorching stuffiness of the tube. All those bodies warmly dressed for the chill of autumn, exhaling all that stale air. I took off my jacket this morning (with just a t-shirt underneath) and still broke a sweat comparable to running on a treadmill for forty minutes. Or standing outside in Vegas in the full heat of July/August. And if you're not right at the door, the breeze that comes in when the doors open at the stations never reaches you. Too many people crammed together.

I get off at London Bridge to either transfer to another line or take the aboveground train. Not only do I have to fight my way past other people to get off the train, I then have to fight through all the people trying to get on the train. If I'm riding the National Rail train, I then have to hustle to the London Bridge train station, buy a ticket, wait to find out the platform for the next train calling at New Cross Gate, then haul ass to the train since they don't seem to want to provide you with the platform number any more than five minutes prior to departure. All for a six-minute train ride. It's quicker than the tube though, and necessary on Wednesdays because I have a lecture at 9 am. I love the walk from the London Bridge tube station to the London Bridge train station. And I love the train station. Everyone is in such a hurry, and no one makes eye contact. There's just this massive flow of people from the platforms to the escalators and then out. Part of me want to leave super-early on Thursdays just so I can sit and have a coffee and watch all the folks rush by, inventing life stories for the more interesting-looking ones.

Oh, by the way, if you didn't know already, I talked my way into being accepted to Goldsmiths College (part of the University of London), in order to study for an honors BA in English and History. But more on that later. If you'd like you can check out the school's website: http://www.goldsmiths.ac.uk/.

Anyway. Would I rather sit in traffic on the freeway or smoosh into a subway train? Certainly a train. With traffic, you've got no idea how long you're going to be stuck in it, or how far up ahead it extends. With the tube you only have to stick it out until your stop. Granted, I'd rather be sitting, but since I'm on my way to spend an hour or two sitting on my ass inside a classroom, I think I can put up with standing all the way there.