I just wanna try and make it interesting:…read more
He worked the euro's into the slot only to find them returning, why were French Metro ticket machines so contrary? Relenting, a ten euro note is produced. He drums his fingers and peeks over his shoulder at the line amassing behind him while waiting for his change and ticket. These are all deposited into the same Coke can shaped aperture, and he must squash his hand in to extract them, more coins, but at €1.80/one-way the Paris Metro is a great deal.
Jamming them into his pocket, he adjusts his bag to a safer position over his shoulder, and weaves his way through the evening crowd. Sliding the ticket into the slot and removing it on the other side, he pushes through the turnstile, and follows the signage to Charles De Gaulle Etoile. This is the final stop on the #6 Green line, the way he is headed, but his stop is Passy.
Out on the platform, he stepped back a couple of paces to see that the #6 will be arriving in one minute.
French metro lines, every four minutes, or so, how convenient? He's thinking, as he bumped into someone.
"Pardon," he muttered.
"Ca va," and a giggle.
"Excusez-moi."
Another giggle, and a sideways glance, as the train came shrieking to a stop.
Reaching for a book, he has ten stops to go, and at a average of one to three minutes per, he has time to get in some reading.
Finding a seat on a Paris Metro during non-peak hours is easy. Paris Metros are more coach (individual seats often facing someone across the way) style as apposed to NYC and London, where there are more bench style. He often enjoys the intimacy of the face to face contact, even with strangers.
The first stop comes quickly. He checks the stop name, Raspail, to be sure he is headed in the right direction. As he looks back to his book he sees, a couple rows over, her smiling face. He smiles. She turns to talk with her friends.
The Metro would start and stop at each announced station, people would get off and on, as he looked over the edge of his book, she was still there, smiling. He took note of the smooth elegance of her neck, the well defined line of her jaw bone, the upward curve of her lip, her eyes. The delicate fine lines there that told him she was a confident woman, not fearing any marks time had left behind.
They locked eyes for moments, words were whispered, heads were turned, hearts raced, it was only ten minutes.
Then, the train slowed and she was up moving towards the door with her friends. As she passed she nodded, he, in turn, did the same, but his heart was racing, screaming, "No don't go just yet."
He steeled himself, and turned, slightly, to watch her go.
Her face was there, smiling in the window. The doors shut, and as the train pulled away, she pressed her hand to the glass. He pressed his over hers.
"Me recontrer ici demain!" he yelled, despite himself.
She nodded.
It was sweet, as sweet as any dream he had ever had, but it was just that, nothing more than a dream.
Metro machines stop taking coins when they're full, so coins are useful early, but not late.
Parisian Metro machines display directions in several languages.
The Paris Metro is a great deal at €1.80 one/way, and easy to navigate.
Always look for Line Color and number, make sure you are headed in the right direction by knowing the final stop.
Dreams are where we should all live.
Aloha
