Smooshed in the subway: A rite of passage into "Porteñohood"

Monday morning I had my first real experience of riding the metro in Buenos Aires during rush hour. It would not be unfair to say that the passengers were packed in the train cars more tightly than sardines in a can. I don't think I've ever felt more suffocated than I did during that metro ride. Pressed between a metal pole, a middle-aged businessman, a barely 5-foot tall lady, a grandmother and her grandaughter, and who knows who else, I was literally unable to move. As I was right next to the door, each time the train stopped to let people off and on, I was pushed further into the crowd and also into the metal pole to make room for the exchange of passengers. Just when I would think the car was full, someone else would push his or her way on, barely escaping being crushed by the automatic car doors in the process. At one point, I was almost positive my hamstring was going to start cramping, which led to (perhaps unreasonable) fears of involuntarily kicking out at my neighbors on the train, which in turn would spark an all out brawl among the passengers since tensions were already high early on a Monday morning.

I didn't take this picture, but this is exactly what the metro was like.

Every and all personal barriers were crossed, and basically erased, on that metro ride. I couldn't tell whose arm/leg/butt was against me, and it was nearly impossible to breathe air other than the carbon dioxide exhaled by the person whose face was only inches from mine. No wonder I've already been sick twice in the past month. If one person on the subway has a cold, the four people surrounding him are at risk for infection, and the four people surrounding each one of them, and then a chain effect occurs... I don't even want to imagine the colonies of bacteria which must be thriving on the handles and seats of the subway (again, I might be slightly exaggerating, but still, it's gross to think about...). Just writing about this is making me feel sick again.

Counting down the stations, the ride seemed like it would never end. Those twenty minutes felt like an eternity, and each time the doors would open at a station, I would take advantage to try to breathe again before the doors closed to head back into the darkness of the subway tunnel. Finally, when I arrived at my stop, I pushed my way through the masses, off the train, and onto the platform. I took a moment just to pause and take a few deep breaths since my lungs could now expand fully once again, trying to fight off the feelings of claustrophobia and nausea rising in my stomach.

One might wonder, "why didn't you just wait for the next train since this one was so full?" Well, after waiting more than twenty minutes for a train to arrive, freaking out about arriving late for a demo lesson presentation with a coordinator at the language institute I am applying to work with, I couldn't risk waiting around another half hour for the next train. Yes, I did wait 20 minutes for the subway during peak times, something almost unheard of in major American and European cities except during labor strikes or under extreme circumstances. Here, porteños are accustomed to waiting long periods of time for public services, whether it's for transport, healthcare, official documents, etc. Looking around the platform as I waited, no one seemed particularly agitated or worried -- though no one appeared particularly thrilled to board an already jam-packed subway train...

Again, not my picture, but this is how full the train was.

Remember those greeting customs I mentioned so tenderly a couple of months ago? The lack of barriers or boundaries during the greeting, a kiss on the cheek, also manifests itself in a less friendly way in circumstances such as riding crowded public transport. With so many people in such a small space, a lot of pushing and shoving goes on as people fight to find their place to stand, especially if there's something nearby to lean against. One has to learn to stand one's ground in order to avoid losing the little space one has. Thus, it is quite unsurprising that folks often get into small tussles when someone pushes too hard. This time, the grandmother who was next to me on the metro almost got into an all out scuffle with a younger lady who had pushed her and told her to move further into the train to make room for those who were getting on. Understandably, the grandmother was none too thrilled and let the whole train know. The girl responded with attitude, and then things really heated up. Luckily, I was able to get off the train before any punches were thrown...

The blessing of having a job also comes with the curse of having to travel with the masses, but, afterward, I felt as though I had somehow gone through some sort of ritual of initiation into "porteñohood" by experiencing something which porteños live daily.