HAMEDY: In the jungle

O

n a Monday evening at about 5:45 p.m. at the Victoria Station Tube Stop, a blind man stood hunched over, leaning on his cane. He reached into his pocket and spent about two minutes fidgeting in an attempt to find his wallet.

Finally, with wallet in hand, he maneuvered his way into the Tube stop entrance. But after struggling to press his pass for the gate doors to open, a red “x” that read, “seek help” appeared. Unfortunately for this man, he could not see the red “x” and stood frustrated as people who didn’t realize he was blind yelled at him for blocking traffic. A Tube employee eventually headed over, rolled his eyes and helped the man get to the train station.

I saw this all from afar as I was waiting on the other side of the station for a train back to home sweet Crofton. No one stopped to help this blind man. No one asked if he was okay. Instead, people shoved their way past him. Treated him like another one of the masses.

Welcome to the (London Tube) jungle. It’s a fierce world – one that entails angry Londoners, rushing to get to and from work; elderly people just trying to get a seat for the rest of the ride; loud school children on their way home without parental supervision . . . I could go on for hours.

I’ve spent two and half hours in Los Angeles traffic once. I’ve been squished on the T on the way to Agganis before a BU vs. BC game. I’ve even crammed with five other people in the back seat of a cab.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the madness that is the London Tube rush hour.

The end of spring break marked the beginning of our time as interns in the real world  – from Parliament to JP Morgan, BU students were ready to get to work. Well, sort of.

We anticipated the 9 a.m. – 5 p.m. days, the long commutes home and fewer nights out. And in our internship training courses, they reminded us about work etiquette – no Facebook, be on time, etc. But there was not one word mentioned about transportation to and from work, except for, of course, directions (just in case we non-Londoners get lost).

The first morning I headed to work on the Tube, I had no idea what was in store. I brought a book to read to entertain myself. I had headphones in so I could listen to music of choice. I carried an extra coat in case it got colder.

“The train is now approaching,” a nice lady with a British accent calmly said over the loudspeaker. “Mind the gap.”

It was those three words that triggered the madness that followed. I gulped, clutched my purse and coat and braced myself. Everyone at the station looked like they were ready to pounce on the soon-to-be open doors. I felt a death glare coming from a woman who was with her dog and awaiting a seat (think “Mean Girls” when Lindsay Lohan describes how things would be settled in the animal world).

Attempting to get on was a blur. People shoved their way on and off of the train faster than I could muster up the courage to say a polite “excuse me.” My coat fell to the floor of the train and people stomped all over it as if it were part of the train’s exterior. I couldn’t even reach into my bag to grab a book, let alone read one. And my iPod, even with the volume at its highest, couldn’t drown out the noise of the train’s wheels speeding on the tracks.

When I reached my stop, I pushed my way through a crowd and out the door. I took a deep breath and hoped that this experience was just a one-time thing.

I was wrong.

My return around 5:30 p.m. was equally as bad. When I was little, I visited New York City and I remember taking the subway and being a little too close to the line. My mom warned me that I could fall or someone could push me if I got too close. I think this fear has followed me for my entire life. It’s a legitimate fear – people fall all the time! Just the other day I read an article in a British paper about a boy being rescued after falling. You call it irrational, I call it a huge hole underground that you could easily slip and fall into.

On my return journey, I thought someone was going to push me onto the tracks because of the rush to get on the Tube. A woman next to me was coughing and sneezing and my other big fear of getting a disease heightened as I watched her blow her nose on the edge of her scarf. A student thought it was the perfect opportunity to study and thus busts out flashcards and takes up an entire extra seat for no reason. A man in dreadlocks who seemed to think showering was optional decided to stand next to me on my entire commute back. As the train swerved around, so did his hair . . . in my face.

And this, my friends, is the Tube at rush hour. At least I still have all my limbs intact.

Saba Hamedy is a College of Communication and College of Arts and Sciences junior, Fall 2011 editor-in-chief of The Daily Free Press and now a weekly columnist. She can be reached at sbhamedy@bu.edu.