Tube Warrior

When I first arrived in London, just over a year ago, I was not comfortable riding the tube. It did not seem natural to me to descend deep into the bowels of the city and then hurtle around in a dark tunnel to pop up into an unknown world.

It was unnerving to stand at the edge of a train track. I had thoughts about someone going crazy and pushing people into the oncoming train. Walking along the track as a train screamed by made my palms itch and sweat.

It didn't help matters that when we arrived the country was in a "High Terror Alert" and we were constantly reminded of it on the TV. Images of the transit terrorist bombing of 2005 came to mind.

I'd look around and wonder how it was possible to consistently never have eye contact with people. I narrowed it down to several well practiced techniques - read, play on the phone, stare blankly into space, and the one that really baffled me, the application of a full coat of makeup - generally on women, but not always. To be honest, in a weird way, I am fascinated by their ability to transform their faces before my eyes.

A year later, I am now a Transit Warrior.

I enter the tube station quickly and focused, automatically touching my bank card on the reader to open the turnstile gate. As I pass the digital clock I mentally note my entry time, then check the video screen of the CCTV to see if the tube is at the platform below.

I know the tube generally comes every minute or two. The most I've ever had to wait is maybe 4 minutes. I know I don't need to run, but, I still hustle anyway.

I am annoyed at the people standing on the escalators that don't keep to the right, because I walk both up, and down, to the left, of those long steep moving slopes.

I no longer notice the "mind the gap" announcements at every stop while the tube doors are open. When I do, they make me smile.

I've learned during rush hour to squeeze in without hesitation, accept that more people will follow me and push me in even further. I've learned if I am the last one in to tilt my head forward so that the closing doors don't slam into my head.

I can quickly navigate my way around the maze of corridors that connect the various tube lines snaking underneath the city. I know to dodge the people towing luggage, because if they stop abruptly at stairs or in confusion, I'll trip over them.

I avert my eyes to avoid contact. But, if I do make eye contact, I still smile, and if I bump or push someone, I still apologize. And for the most part, people acknowledge in appreciation. Under the crush of anonymity, there is still humanity.

It reminds me of how I've accepted and adapted, but not totally changed, over the last year.