Two Metro Stories

Story #1

Even though the metro trains come and go every few minutes, people still hurry if they enter the platform area and see the train sitting there. This was the situation I found myself in last week.

We were walking down the stairs to the metro platform when Joe said, "Hurry! Our train is here and it's about to leave!" So I hurried. I ran down the stairs and got into a car just as the doors were closing. "Whew! That was close!" I said to myself. And since I had just squeezed my buttocks through the doors milliseconds before they closed, I wasn't yet holding on to any pole.

The train lurched, I stumbled forward, and as I went to catch myself I inadvertently hit a young man's face with the back of my hand. Not a hard hit, mind you. But my hand definitely grazed his cheek. I whispered in my best French accent, "Pardon, monsieur. Pardon!" And then in English, "I am SO sorry!"

His facial expression did not change, but I could read the horrification in his eyes since I had a very good view from 1 inch away.

I straightened myself up and walked to a seat.

Shit happens.


Story #2

This morning Joe and I were taking the metro to a street market on Rue Monge. When we're not walking we take the metro EVERYWHERE. At least twice, if not three times a day. We like to sit in the flip-down seats near the doors as it allows us easy entrance (well, except for the incident described in story #1) and exit.

I sat down on one of the seats and just as I was in the middle of crossing my legs (with only one foot on the floor), the train lurched and I toppled into the aisle. With great grace and agility I was able to prevent a full pratfall and easily regained my upright position. As I started to laugh, I looked around at the Parisian faces and saw that they were not amused. The man closest to me was disgusted by my antics. I'm sure he thought, "For the love of God woman, have some dignity and stay in your seat!"

It just made me laugh harder.