...can be one of the craziest parts of my day. I suppose I'm used to it by now, since I've been taking the subway in the morning since middle school, and I don't really think much about it. But when I start talking to people who really aren't used to this part of Seoul life, I get reminded on just how crazy my morning commute actually is.
During rush hour, the train comes about every two minutes. So if you miss one, it's really not a big deal and you can always take the next one. Normally, I arrive at the platform at around 7:57 and first check how many people are waiting in line before me. Then when the train arrives, I have to see how many people get off, and do a mental calculation on whether I would be able to squeeze myself in. If the people already on the train seem pretty uncomfortable, I'll just wait for the next one. That way, I'll be first to get on for the next train which guarantees me a spot, because the people behind me are bound to push me in to get on themselves, which saves me that much effort. If the train is ever delayed, and you see just how many people are waiting in line to board, you'd be surprised on the number of people can manage to push their way in. It's like that tiny hamster who has a pouch that stretches bigger than its body and can fit a gazillion nuts in its mouth.
And yes, that's how difficult it is to get on the train in the morning. Some might be shocked at how rude and pushy people can be on subways, but if you're not, you miss the train to work. So being nice and polite is sadly not an option. No one ever really complains when the pushing happens; I'll hear some occasional "Oh!"s of surprise when it gets intense, but otherwise we all bear with it together because we all understand the situation.
There are some times where you're barely on the train, waiting for the doors to close, and on the verge of bursting back out onto the platform. In such cases most people raise their arms and place their hands on the inside wall above the sliding doors, to secure themselves. It's such a sad struggle, and I hate it when I find myself doing the same exact thing.
Once you're actually inside the train, you can't move. If my handbag slides off my shoulder, I'll have to leave it be because there is no space for me to move my arms to lift up my bag. I can't make sudden movements with my head, to get something off my face, for example, because my hair might whip the face of the person standing right behind me. And if you need to get off at a station where everyone else normally doesn't get off, that's a whole other journey. Your daily mission is to push past the wall of people and manage to get out before even more people swarm in.
Then there are those stations where everyone gets off to transfer. Thankfully, I need to transfer at one of those stations too, which makes getting off so much easier. You don't even need to make an effort to walk - it's like your body moves of its own accord, being pushed out by the massive crowd. And as I walk down the stairs that lead to another platform of a different subway line, staring at the sea of heads moving in the same direction, I'll feel so tired, or disgusted, or frustrated, or pathetic. I don't know, different feelings each day. Sometimes I'll just marvel at how many people there are, and wonder where everyone is going, what they're thinking. Sometimes I'll wonder what I'm doing with my life, whether this daily struggle is really worth it. Sometimes it'll make me feel like my place in this universe is so small, when I see so many people all going about their lives, going through the same struggles for their own schedules and purposes, which I have no part in whatsoever.
It's just a tough ride during rush hour. The best way to cope is to turn off your brain, listen to music (doing something productive is sort of out of the question), and just think of yourself as a zombie until you finally walk out the station exit and breathe in some regular, fresh air. For me, I think that's when my work day really starts.
During rush hour, the train comes about every two minutes. So if you miss one, it's really not a big deal and you can always take the next one. Normally, I arrive at the platform at around 7:57 and first check how many people are waiting in line before me. Then when the train arrives, I have to see how many people get off, and do a mental calculation on whether I would be able to squeeze myself in. If the people already on the train seem pretty uncomfortable, I'll just wait for the next one. That way, I'll be first to get on for the next train which guarantees me a spot, because the people behind me are bound to push me in to get on themselves, which saves me that much effort. If the train is ever delayed, and you see just how many people are waiting in line to board, you'd be surprised on the number of people can manage to push their way in. It's like that tiny hamster who has a pouch that stretches bigger than its body and can fit a gazillion nuts in its mouth.
And yes, that's how difficult it is to get on the train in the morning. Some might be shocked at how rude and pushy people can be on subways, but if you're not, you miss the train to work. So being nice and polite is sadly not an option. No one ever really complains when the pushing happens; I'll hear some occasional "Oh!"s of surprise when it gets intense, but otherwise we all bear with it together because we all understand the situation.
There are some times where you're barely on the train, waiting for the doors to close, and on the verge of bursting back out onto the platform. In such cases most people raise their arms and place their hands on the inside wall above the sliding doors, to secure themselves. It's such a sad struggle, and I hate it when I find myself doing the same exact thing.
Once you're actually inside the train, you can't move. If my handbag slides off my shoulder, I'll have to leave it be because there is no space for me to move my arms to lift up my bag. I can't make sudden movements with my head, to get something off my face, for example, because my hair might whip the face of the person standing right behind me. And if you need to get off at a station where everyone else normally doesn't get off, that's a whole other journey. Your daily mission is to push past the wall of people and manage to get out before even more people swarm in.
Then there are those stations where everyone gets off to transfer. Thankfully, I need to transfer at one of those stations too, which makes getting off so much easier. You don't even need to make an effort to walk - it's like your body moves of its own accord, being pushed out by the massive crowd. And as I walk down the stairs that lead to another platform of a different subway line, staring at the sea of heads moving in the same direction, I'll feel so tired, or disgusted, or frustrated, or pathetic. I don't know, different feelings each day. Sometimes I'll just marvel at how many people there are, and wonder where everyone is going, what they're thinking. Sometimes I'll wonder what I'm doing with my life, whether this daily struggle is really worth it. Sometimes it'll make me feel like my place in this universe is so small, when I see so many people all going about their lives, going through the same struggles for their own schedules and purposes, which I have no part in whatsoever.
It's just a tough ride during rush hour. The best way to cope is to turn off your brain, listen to music (doing something productive is sort of out of the question), and just think of yourself as a zombie until you finally walk out the station exit and breathe in some regular, fresh air. For me, I think that's when my work day really starts.
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