Day 11: Moving man and The Machine

The Machine

London moves and if you don’t move with it, you’re bound to get run over. 

If you had asked me a week ago how my commute was, I would have told you “I took the red pill.” The complex matrix of trains, tunnels, platforms and elevators that create the London Underground, is like taking a breathless free-fall down the rabbit hole.

Moving man

But eleven days into it now, I can safely say the red pill wasn't that bad. Being a lifelong Californian, I’m about as used to public transportation as I am to not seeing the sun every day. Not the best of combinations for this Angeleno, but when in London, you do as the Londoners do, you disregard the weather and you ride the tube.

The daily grind

The Underground is a circuitous system of arteries and veins that feed the heart of the city. It is remarkable to see. But what you don’t see is equally as remarkable. There is a certain politesse that Londoners afford each other on this ritualistic and communal ride that is quite touching. Those who can help those who cannot lift everything from bags to suitcases to baby carriages without prompting. There is no pushing or shoving. There is no grabbing of seats or hogging of hand rails. There is no leftover trash or unwelcomed graffiti. You stand on the right, walk on the left and you go with the flow, cordially.

The daily Metro

Even the overhead messages are polite. The engineer makes announcements with the most apologetic of tones when the train is delayed, the Station Master preempts your confusion with updates on lines that are down or closed, and the pleasantest of accents ever reminds you to “Mind the Gap.” It’s so close to an urban utopia, I keep expecting H.G Wells to show up!

But blitheness aside, this is a system that works and works well. Every morning, I now freely take ‘The Metro’ newspaper handed to me by the newspaper man at the front entrance of the station and catch up on the news (and gossip) on my way to class. I then fall into pace with the rest of the crowd. 

Man and machine meet

People are hooked-up, plugged-in, wired-on and totally connected. Familiar,white ear- buds, intently climb out of long, black coats. Novels, papers and iphones stay clutched for convenient entertainment on the AM ride. Regardless of stop or start endpoints, travelers effortlessly slide into line with each other, moving in sync with equal rhythm and measure. Up the escalators, down the stairs, through the tunnels, out the doors. . .the dance of the underground has begun and the choreography needs no rehearsal. This is a second nature waltz.  

Plugged in

The “dancers” move in tempo to a cadence that conducts itself and those unfamiliar with the steps, don't take long to learn. The orchestrated movement of the well-timed masses mimics the precision of the machine they move toward. Man and machine collide together in exact time. One ending where the other begins. Two colossal forces merging on a single platform, gingerly mindful of the gap that divides them. 

This is London and this is how it moves.

Today Colin Firth is the New King of England