Standing Up on the Blue Line Can Be More Dangerous Than You Think.

About a month ago, I left work a bit late. I don't remember why precisely, but it probably had something to do with a meeting that someone couldn't bear to have me leave. Anyway, I got to the train late. It was still on the platform at 7th/Metro downtown LA, but I was late enough that I knew that I wasn't going to get a seat. This always presents me with a dilemma: do I want to stand up most of the way to Long Beach and get there sooner or do I wait for the next train and get a seat? Most of the time I suck it up and choose 'a - stand a while and get there sooner.' My legs were feeling strong that day and I had a good book to read, so that's what I did.

In these circumstances I have a technique that allows me to get a space and not have to move until the train gets to Imperial/Wilmington Station. Imperial is the Green Line connection and lots of folks take off and you can grab a seat before the people coming from the Green Line get on. Anyway...

What I do is go to the front of the nearest car and lean against the bulkhead facing towards the back of the train. I put my feet way out so that as the train speeds up and slows down I can naturally brace myself without being distracted from the book I'm reading. I'm right next to the open door. Once it closes and we roll off to Pico Station I put my backpack under my legs and I'm set. Please note that from here on out the door that I'm next to won't open anymore. The one on the opposite side does instead. This is very important to keep in mind. (Click here for artist's conception).

So I'm reading and the sun is shining and the people are happy. We're almost to Washington Station (4th stop out), stopped at the last traffic signal before 'signalized track' with the handy traffic-stopping gates and flashing lights begins. That's when it happens. The door next to me - the one that's not supposed to open - opens. I was glad of two things at this point: 1. that my technique for wedging myself in place was working and 2. that the train was not moving.

But before that, I was so surprised that my brain couldn't even form the proper expletives. The 'fight-or-flight' response that allowed humans to evolve to our present state of big-brained glory was not at work in me. My mouth-open, wide-eyed-stillness response was working just fine.

A split second later - after I got used to feeling flabbergasted - I saw a guy outside the door at waist-level. He wasn't floating, he was driving a bottled water delivery truck He was oblivious to my plight. (Click here for artist's conception number two).

I decided to look down. It's not that far, but it's farther than you want to fall whether the train is moving or not. I looked back into the train car and an old Latin guy was looking at me with this goofy smile, but no one else was reacting either. No one jumped up to save me. That wasn't good for my self-esteem. I was just to the part where I think about what I'm going to do if the train starts moving and the door is still open when it closed. The ordeal was over. It took all of 6 seconds.

The train started moving. I was expecting the operator to come on the PA and say "We'll be exiting the train at Washington Station and you'll have to disembark and wait for one that works" or at least "My bad, sorry! I hope everyone's still with us!" But s/he said nothing. Nothing. That's right in line with the "Nyah, nyah! We're not tellin'" approach that Metro has towards mishaps.

Well, whatever. Click here to see the moral of the story, and remember that the signs on the train mean what they say.