Where does the average human being spend most of its life? On the road. And, if you live in a big city - it's Moscow* for me - "the road" usually means the subway. We call it "the metro", just like the French do, but, trust me, there's nothing refined about it.
I'm not saying it's ugly - no, almost every station is an architectural masterpiece. You can take a look here: http://www.creativevisualart.com/2013/05/21/11-of-moscows-most-beautiful-metro-stations
See? Gorgeous! But, for some reason, who you were when you got in there on your way to work/study/visit your old Grandma, and who you are when you get out are two completely different people. It's as if all of your positive energy was sucked - no - clawed out of you, and the only thing that's left is an empty carcass, weary and unwilling to live, let alone pay any attention to even the most beloved of relatives.
Why does this happen? You see, while you're inside this mysterious wonderland of sky-high arches, deafening trains and chamber-of-secrets-like passageways, you're not alone. If you were, you'd simply get to where you wanted to be, enjoy the view on the way, and feel more or less great - more if it isn't 7 AM, less if it is, and you're already late.
But you are surrounded by THEM. The crowds. The swarms. The throngs. I'm not using the word "people", and I will not be using it throughout this text, because what I see in the metro are not people. They are any and all of what I called them above. You cannot treat them as individuals. Well, may be, you can, for the first couple of minutes, until somebody stomps on your foot, pushes you, curses at you, and even spits at you - but that last one almost never happens. After that couple of minutes has passed, you'll gradually start seeing each and every one of them as a big blur. A blur that constantly makes you angry.
A blur that always does something wrong. And even though blurs are generally very vague, you can still separate them into types.
Type 1: The grannies. We call them "baboushkas". Never mistake them for the sweet, kind, pie-baking grannies usually described with this word. Because they are the opposite of kind. They are EVIL. They enter the metro as soon as it opens, and leave it, well, never. They drag around huge trolley-bags full of God knows, what, and if your feet are in their way - too bad, now you have no feet. Nor ears, for that matter, because they'll scream at you with words that could only come from ancient curses.
But, no matter how bad they make you feel, they're still old and considered-to-be-wise-and-frail, so you can't really say or do anything to them - and, personally, I'd be scared to even try - so you shut up. And get angry.
Type 2: The girlies. They're pretty. They're well-dressed. They smell nice. And they've got hair. Long, wavy, straight or curly hair. THAT GETS IN YOUR FACE. And, if you don't have a hair fetish, it's pretty unpleasant. But you're balancing on one foot, squeezed between a fat guy and a rocker whose jacket is all spikes, so you can't do anything about this mess of a mass in your hair. So you get angry.
Type 3: The mommies. They love their kids so much, they can't stand the thought of their little legs having to hold the weight of their - often massive - bodies. I don't giving up my seat to a toddler who can barely stand, or to a pregnant lady. I'm not a bad person! But what often happens is: as soon as a free seat turns up, a woman standing next to an obnoxious almost-teenager who manages to stand firmly on both of his feet, one hand up his nose and another one holding a comic-book, points him to the seat and says: "Sit down, dear! You must be tired!" What kind of parenting is that? No wonder guys don't give up seats for girls or women! Their mommies taught them not to!
But questioning a mother's approach to her child's upbringing would be suicidal, so what do you do? You shut up. Again. And get angry.
I could go on with the types of blurs, but there is really no need for that. The point is clear - the worst thing the metro does to you is: it makes you angry. All the time. And that anger is locked inside of you, because if you let it out, you'd either end up in jail or in a morgue. So, no matter how happy you were when you left home, by the time you're out of the public transport system, you're a nervous, eye-twitching wreck.
So my question is: what do you do to avoid this state? If you own a car and use that to get around, what is your way of dealing with traffic-jam stress? It's not the same, believe me, but close enough. So share!
I'm not saying it's ugly - no, almost every station is an architectural masterpiece. You can take a look here: http://www.creativevisualart.com/2013/05/21/11-of-moscows-most-beautiful-metro-stations
See? Gorgeous! But, for some reason, who you were when you got in there on your way to work/study/visit your old Grandma, and who you are when you get out are two completely different people. It's as if all of your positive energy was sucked - no - clawed out of you, and the only thing that's left is an empty carcass, weary and unwilling to live, let alone pay any attention to even the most beloved of relatives.
Why does this happen? You see, while you're inside this mysterious wonderland of sky-high arches, deafening trains and chamber-of-secrets-like passageways, you're not alone. If you were, you'd simply get to where you wanted to be, enjoy the view on the way, and feel more or less great - more if it isn't 7 AM, less if it is, and you're already late.
But you are surrounded by THEM. The crowds. The swarms. The throngs. I'm not using the word "people", and I will not be using it throughout this text, because what I see in the metro are not people. They are any and all of what I called them above. You cannot treat them as individuals. Well, may be, you can, for the first couple of minutes, until somebody stomps on your foot, pushes you, curses at you, and even spits at you - but that last one almost never happens. After that couple of minutes has passed, you'll gradually start seeing each and every one of them as a big blur. A blur that constantly makes you angry.
A blur that always does something wrong. And even though blurs are generally very vague, you can still separate them into types.
Type 1: The grannies. We call them "baboushkas". Never mistake them for the sweet, kind, pie-baking grannies usually described with this word. Because they are the opposite of kind. They are EVIL. They enter the metro as soon as it opens, and leave it, well, never. They drag around huge trolley-bags full of God knows, what, and if your feet are in their way - too bad, now you have no feet. Nor ears, for that matter, because they'll scream at you with words that could only come from ancient curses.
But, no matter how bad they make you feel, they're still old and considered-to-be-wise-and-frail, so you can't really say or do anything to them - and, personally, I'd be scared to even try - so you shut up. And get angry.
Type 2: The girlies. They're pretty. They're well-dressed. They smell nice. And they've got hair. Long, wavy, straight or curly hair. THAT GETS IN YOUR FACE. And, if you don't have a hair fetish, it's pretty unpleasant. But you're balancing on one foot, squeezed between a fat guy and a rocker whose jacket is all spikes, so you can't do anything about this mess of a mass in your hair. So you get angry.
Type 3: The mommies. They love their kids so much, they can't stand the thought of their little legs having to hold the weight of their - often massive - bodies. I don't giving up my seat to a toddler who can barely stand, or to a pregnant lady. I'm not a bad person! But what often happens is: as soon as a free seat turns up, a woman standing next to an obnoxious almost-teenager who manages to stand firmly on both of his feet, one hand up his nose and another one holding a comic-book, points him to the seat and says: "Sit down, dear! You must be tired!" What kind of parenting is that? No wonder guys don't give up seats for girls or women! Their mommies taught them not to!
But questioning a mother's approach to her child's upbringing would be suicidal, so what do you do? You shut up. Again. And get angry.
I could go on with the types of blurs, but there is really no need for that. The point is clear - the worst thing the metro does to you is: it makes you angry. All the time. And that anger is locked inside of you, because if you let it out, you'd either end up in jail or in a morgue. So, no matter how happy you were when you left home, by the time you're out of the public transport system, you're a nervous, eye-twitching wreck.
So my question is: what do you do to avoid this state? If you own a car and use that to get around, what is your way of dealing with traffic-jam stress? It's not the same, believe me, but close enough. So share!
No comments:
Post a Comment