The Pits

Between all these stories of my travels abroad (Prague-Coming Soon!), I thought I would take a petite pause and talk about the Paris Métro. The Paris Métro and I have a love/hate relationship.
What I love about it is it's reliability. It comes every 2 minutes, and I get annoyed when I have to wait 4, or the unthinkable 5. I've become quite spoiled, DC is going to be a rough adjustment when I go back home. What am I going to do for 7-10 minutes until the next train?! Anyway, I also love the métro performers; despite the ones that have no talent. At least they try, instead of just asking for change. Now comes the absolute worst part of the Métro.
As most of you all know, I am vertically challenged. I've never had a problem with my height until the Paris Métro. All the stereotypes of the French not loving deodorant have proven to be so beyond true on the métro. At my stop for school, Saint-Michel, there are a lot of people. When I take the métro to go home, it is really crowded, and sometimes I have to wait two or three trains to go by just to find a place (a total of maybe 5 minutes). You have to push and shove your way into the car. The doors somehow manage to close, and we are off. Here is the picture: we are all stuffed like sardines on the métro, and within a matter of seconds you literally feel the heat crawling up your body. The train jerks every around in swooping motions, and what do most people do to gain back their balance? That's right, they lift their arms up to grab the nearest pole, so to not topple all over each other. I'm lucky, since I am short, I have less swaying motion because I am closer to the ground. But, my luck runs out. How do I really play into this scene? I am literally face to face with the armpits of Paris. Sometimes I don't think I am going to make it, and fresh air seems so far away from the little nook I find myself in amongst the sea of people. Sometimes I even contemplate handing out free samples of deodorant on the Métro, but I doubt I will get a positive, warm reaction from the oh, so friendly Parisians. So, I find myself closing my eyes, mentally repeating to myself: "fresh linen...febreeze...gardenias...& grapefruits...fresh linen...febreeze...gardenias...& grapefruits..."

Picture taken from Google

(Picture where my small self is, and take PITy on me)

-M