paris metro
Whenever I’ve quaffed a few 1664s and am heading home afterwards, I always find myself sitting near the door of the metro, caught up in an SMS dialogue – or even metaphorically scribbling notes for this blog in a typical “I’ve forgotten pen and paper, better converse with my saved text messages” fashion.
I catch myself mid-conversation and realise that this is something done against all better judgement. But then I remind myself where I am, hope that it hasn’t caught on yet, and resume… though in the back of my mind I’m expecting a St. Petersburg-style karate chop to relieve me of my property.
What on earth am I talking about? It’s as clear as mud – the stolen mobile phone seat – obviously!
I was warned about this in Russia only the day before I actually saw it happen. Don’t have your phone out if you’re sitting near the door of the metro, the timely advice went, because just as “Attention, doors closing” is announced, someone will leap towards the door, deliver you a swift blow to the forearm on the way, and before you realise what has happened, they’ll be safe on the platform with your mobile and you’ll be halfway to the next station.
I thought it was an exaggeration, but then witnessed the move being carried out against a stunned young girl. In fact, everyone was shaken from their public transport stupor, drew a sharp intake of breath, was momentarily indignant, but then resumed their previous listlessness when it became clear that there was nothing that could be done.
I haven’t heard of it happening in Paris yet though…
There’s one other thing about behaviour on the Paris metro though – holding the doors open at the exit. It’s a quirky sociological ritual. Everyone feigns surprised excessive gratitude when another holds the door open for them, even running up the last few stairs so not to inconvenience the door-holder. If you make the mistake of not holding the doors however (accidentally learned this one the hard way), the virulence and hostility of the following commuter cannot be masked. If it’s expected behaviour – why the ritual of astonishment? Don’t get me wrong, I like this courteous interaction a lot, but we all play the game…
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Linda said,
December 21st, 2007 @ 9:29 am
I’ve heard of a few people loosing their phones that way here in Paris-the RER usually, as well as a purse being grabbed as the metro doors close.
More Than Sun and Paella » Lucky me said,
December 21st, 2007 @ 4:57 pm
[…] On reading this post, I would never have thought of being careful with my mobile that way. But hey, I often actually get surprised that nobody has nicked my wallet yet. I always forget to close my handbag, so I just lies there ready to be taken. Maybe I’ve got some good karma coming my way since I’ve been so lucky so far. Share and Enjoy: These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages. […]
Naranja said,
December 21st, 2007 @ 4:59 pm
I would never have thought of being careful with my mobile. But hey,[…]
http://www.morethansunandpaella.com/2007/12/21/lucky-me/
Bettina said,
December 22nd, 2007 @ 3:18 pm
I’ll have to be more careful on the RER especially, because there I am my own worst enemy. I thought I left my glasses on the RER last week (totally engrossed in my book, I had them riskily resting on the seat next to me). When I realised, I went back to the RER station and stammered in my awful French (whilst squinting through myopic eyes haggered from the few tears which had escaped at the moment of realisation):
‘I’ve lost my glasses on the RER this evening…’
to which the station master replied with a killer combo of shrug and “pfft”, and then ‘We don’t have any glasses here.’
Ahh… the moments in my live that I’ve wanted to crawl up and die (that - however - was nothing compared to the feeling of finding the glasses at work the next day!)