Week 14 Impressions by Alex Hickok

The tube, while moving people rapidly and relatively efficiently around the city, produces some interesting behaviour amongst its users. There are unwritten rules that experienced tube riders know and abide by. These rules are there to ensure that everyone gets along in those cramped little train cars without trying to kill each other by the end of the ride. The first rule I have seen evidence of is the rule of out before in.

The out before in rule is as simple as it sounds: let people off the train before you pile in. This rule ensures that the trains are loaded and unloaded in an efficient manner and that people can actually get off at the stop they need. Of course, this rule gets complicated when the tube is crowded during the morning and evening rush hours. Normally it is as simple as standing near the door (upon leaving the train), waiting for the doors to open, and simply hopping off. Inversely, if you are trying to get on a train, it is customary to wait on either side of the train doors as they open, let the alighting passengers depart, and jump into the car.

During rush hour though, these customs change. The British, normally known for their orderly and calm queuing, do not have much patience during rush hour. Train platforms when busy seem to naturally separate into two separate groups: people who wait dangerously close to the gap, and those who stick to the wall. As the train approaches the wall-huggers jump up and madly press up behind the row of people near the gap, forming a near impenetrable wall of humans. Getting on or off the train involves a squeezing through a mass of somewhat accommodating humanity; one often has to physically push through the bodies to get through. This contact is not typical of the British; they like their personal space and privacy, but sacrifices must be made by all in order to move so many people every day.

Personal space is redefined on the tube. If you have ever wanted to get good feeling for the expression “packed like sardines” all you need to do is ride the tube through central London during the evening rush hour. The sheer amount of bodies packed in each train car is amazing. The smell of sweaty humans is always present, and accompanying this is the delicate haze that covers the platforms, undoubtedly stemming from the respiration of thousands of bodies. There is no way around it and no defence against the humanity pressing around you from all directions. Possibly the only form of protection you have is a newspaper, most often a free one given to you at the station, which can be used much like a shield to put some type of barrier between you and the rest of the world. Most people use some type of reading material or listen to their iPods in an effort to gain back some personal space that they were robbed of when 50 new people got on their already packed train at the last station.

The idea of personal space brings about another rule of the tube: don’t talk to your neighbour. Now, this doesn’t mean that you can’t talk with one of your friends that you happen to be riding with. It means do not try to start up conversations with strangers; most of them do not want to talk to you. Enough sacrifices are made to pack people into those cramped cars like cattle, so they are sure as hell are do not talk to you for any reason what so ever other than to get you to move so they can get off the train. Even talking to your friends in a loud voice can draw evil glares from the silent Brits lining the seats.

The classic example of this is the group of French tourists that happen to all get on the tube in one large group. As soon as the first word of French leaves their lips the stares of disdain can be clearly seen across the natives’ faces. I can’t blame them. Even in the short time I have been living here in London I have come to respect the golden rule of silence. When I see a group of tourists noisily chatting away on the tube I shake my head in disappointment and turn up my iPod another notch. The train on the tracks is loud enough for christsakes, I don’t need some bloody tourists adding to the racket.

Worst yet is when every once and a while there is some enterprising old man who thinks that it is a good idea to serenade people riding the tube with his guitar. The poor chap goes down the car strumming some out of date American rock tune while horribly butchering the lyrics and then has the nerve to ask people for money after he is done. The reactions, I can tell you, are never favourable. People avoid making eye contact with the guitarist much like they would avoid the plague. This is the type of person who you almost want to give money to in hopes that they will go away faster, but then you think better of it because you realize this might just encourage them to sing you another horrible song. Why these people ever think it is a good idea to bother people on the tube with sub-par singing and guitar, I don’t know, but I sure as hell don’t like it, and I don’t think anyone else does either. All know is that the tube has become an important part of my life here in London and I will miss it when we leave soon, kind of.