It was the end of the month of May, a Wednesday, about 6:30, in the metro.It was the end of the month of May, a Wednesday, about 6:30, in the metro. It's extremely uncomfortable to take the metro then, because of the enormous crowds in all the cars--pressed against each other, sometimes in direct contact with people less clean... I had no courses that afternoon, and I had gone to Paris to shop in the big stores. Coming back, I had an adventure which, even in my imagination, which is sometimes quite lively and a little crazy, I could never have invented. I got on at Chaussee d'Antin, direction Levallois; I was thinking of changing at Saint-Lazare. Terrible crowd, packed cars, you push as hard as possible in order to get into the car. Outside it was very hot, and it was hotter in the metro, so I was wearing a mini-mini-skirt and a blouse; no underwear, as always, but a bra, very light, which didn't hide much of my chest. I was carrying a paper bag in my hand with a sweater I had bought, and I had my handbag over my shoulder. I climbed into a car and was pushed toward the back by all the people who wanted to get on behind me; when the door closed, we were all packed like herrings in a can. I thought of a song that I heard one time: "If We Could Unpack the Sardines." My arms were trapped against the length of my body. I could not make the slightest movement, held fast in front, behind, to the right and the left by other passengers. I was almost against the back door of the car; there was only one other person, behind my back, between this door and me. In my unhappiness, half-asphyxiated, I found that I was in luck, because the people surrounding me seemed nice, as far as I could tell by appearances. By chance, after everyone pushed on, I was left facing, as squashed as I was, a woman about my age with a face sort of like mine. We exchanged smiles which seemed to say "We can only suffer in patience." The metro moved about a thousand feet or so, when I sensed very clearly a hand behind me, placed on my buttocks. |