Heading towards line 12. The first train is packed. No problem, just wait for the next one. Also packed. The third one arrives, and it’s the same.
It seems that in Paris, public transportation is manageable between 11 and 5, which is complicated if you’re not retired.
Paris, what bad luck: scooter breakdown, weeks for replacement parts to arrive. Only solution – public transportation. First day, cold weather, dress accordingly. Direction to line 12. The first train is crowded. No problem, just wait for the next one. Also packed. The third one arrives, and it’s the same. Entering it, thinking of the numerous reports on the Tokyo metro.
Nose pressed against the sticky glass door. A torture lasting about twenty stations. Passengers all with headphones, everyone looking at their phones. Remembering the old days when most adults read newspapers. Adding to the misery, unbearable heat with winter clothes, should have worn a tank top. Same ordeal on the evening return. Torture. Next day, alternative option: the bus.
One day, a miracle, a meeting at 4 pm allows taking a relatively empty metro. A quick look at the seats discourages sitting unless in Kevlar pants. When the tourists arrive for the Olympics, they might question whether the passengers of the Paris metro might be, by chance, large apes (without sphincters, of course).
