April 2006: Commute

It's been nearly a month, traveling across the city in the mornings, feeling groggy from too little sleep. I've been waking up early and doing a morning commute that, despite the hassle, is a generally interesting one.



It's 8:40 when I walk out of my apartment building.
At 8:43, the girl in front of me at Starbucks is debating whether or not to use her LG card for a 50% discount on a small latte-mocha-frappoo-nanna-chinoh! or her SK card for a 35% discount on a large whipped-'spresso-deliciousoso-tastee-karamel. Her shirt says something in English that makes more sense than what she just ordered. Marketing is the new Engrish.
By 8:46, I'm on the subway platform waiting next to some straggling students, old people out earlier and returning with the morning's groceries, businessmen and guys dressed in suit coats and track pants.
Then the bell dings and the subway train blasts it's horn. There's a rush of air and the train comes whizzing by, it's breaks screaming and though the window people slow down from indistinguishable blur to fully-realized, sleepy office workers and kids and moms and subway vendors and whoever else needs to get somewhere after the morning rush hour has finally died down.



Now, there's a science to doing this. Listen up, it'll save you a lot of time: Starbucks is next to the north entrance, and so I come down the north set of stairs. I need to get to the far south end of the platform in order to be the first going down the staircase at the transfer station four stops away. Today it was easy, I had plenty of time to walk. Often, the train pulls into the station and I'm only half way there, and on rainy days it gets even more difficult. Those days, I've got to walk through the train with coffee in one hand and an umbrella in the other, which makes opening the car doors a bit of a trick. Once I get to the south end of the train, I'm rarely the first person waiting at the doors.

Once we pull into the transfer station, it's all about moving as quickly as possible to the far side of the staircase and bolting past people. Once I'm at the bottom of the staircase, I can blow through the tranfer hallways, and only people who are running will outpace me. This transfer point is unholy long, although nothing compared to Seoul Station, which can take the better part of 20 minutes to walk from end-to-end.

There are two things that can screw up a decent transfer, one is a gaggle of old people. It'd be rude to push through them, and if the other line has just come through, there are too many people coming at you to dodge around them. The other is people who stand two abreast on the escalator. With no way to pass them, everyone who sees the jam starts taking the stairs. When you get to the bottom, you're stuck behind them, too.

Again, at this station, I'm coming at it from the north and I need to be at the south end. This line, however, is always full because for god-knows-why, the trains are usually 8 to 10 minutes apart at this time of day. The platform is always packed and the train is always already full. It's impossible to walk through the train once I'm on it. Luckily, time is always on my side, with this one.

At the south end of the platform, in the wall, across the rails is an extremely small door. It's across the rails, so what's behind it is a deep, burdensome mystery.

The train comes, I hop on and stand pressed in, a sardine in a tube hurtling at 20ish miles per hour through a tunnel under the city. Once, there were a couple of flower vendors who were transporting four or five large boxes of fresh roses. The train car smelled fantastic. Sometimes women do their nails on the commute. I gag for five stops before bolting up the stairs, across the station and up more stairs to the last leg of the subway. I'm on the right end of the platform for this one and don't have to go anywhere. Someone yells, "Hello." to me going down the opposite stairs. I smile and wave because I'd be a jerk not to.

The train, when it comes, totally empties. There are two more stops before it reaches it's terminal destination. I always get a seat and so do the other two or three people headed that way. We spread ourselves out through the car.
One more stop.
I'm there.

Pulling into the terminal station is interesting because all the things that never happen during the subway ride happen here. The newspaper ladies get on, to collect abandoned newspapers off the bag racks above the seats. A lady with a mop gets on. And the conductor collects his bag and coat, walks out of the narrow metal door and to the other end of the train to take up station at the other set of controls to turn the thing around and head back the same way he came. I just get out and walk out into the sparkling early summer morning.

It's 9:24 and my day has just begun.