After a pleasant ride on the TGV (which stands for really fast train in French) I arrived at the enormous Gare de Lyon station. My lovely friend M eventually found me wandering around the main floor and we proceeded to take a very long and complicated route back to her place, where I'd be staying for a few days. The Paris metro is about thirty times more complicated than the one in Lyon. Not only do they have more lines, but not all of them connect, some are fast, some are slow, some are above ground, and some below (that rhyme was accidental but I'm keeping it). All of the entrances are different and there are multiple checkpoints where you need to re-submit your tickets. My Lyon metro pass is useless here and I didn't have any tickets, so I had to hop in behind M after she scanned hers. I realize this is illegal and I can get a ticket if I get caught, but it was only for one night. Checkpoint after checkpoint, I would manage to get in behind her with no difficulty. And then we got to the last checkpoint.
I forgot to mention the kind of luggage I took on this trip. To France, I took one large wheelie bag, one satchel, and one giant backpack. The "Oh, you're backpacking across Europe, aren't you?" kind of backpack. It's green, and in my opinion, quite stylish. Since I'm only in Paris for one week, I brought just my backpack. At the train station however, I became quite envious of all the chic French girls and their tiny wheelie bags that follow them obediently without knocking their heels or catching on things. I was even more jealous I got to this particular checkpoint in the metro.
It was quite busy, and many people were coming and going through the scary sliding plastic doors. M scanned her ticket and went through, and so did I. But my backpack did not. It was stuck between the doors. I immediately commenced panicking to such a degree that some valiant soul behind me tried to pry the doors open, but to no avail. I was convinced that I was going to be trapped there FOREVER, and would most certainly die. Worse, be caught by the metro police, who patrolled around looking for rule breakers such as myself. The man behind me kept pulling on the doors, audibly struggling and making weight-lifting type sounds, and I just sort of thrashed around trying to free myself. There was a long line behind me, and people were yelling in French that I didn't understand. Would I ever get out? This ordeal lasted about thirty seconds, which doesn't seem that long, but to me, it was FOREVER. It was one of those occurrences that you think is going to only last a few moments but just keeps going, and going, and going... It was quite scarring. Eventually someone, (not M, who was staring uselessly at me) thought to re-scan their card to let me out, and I scurried away after thanking the nice man for saving me.
After that, I bought some tickets. They're really expensive, but I don't care. I will do almost anything to avoid another experience like that again. I'm sure one day I'll look back on this and laugh. One day.
I'm laughing already.
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