Ah... Christmas break. Coming home on the train, reading my book, feeling the stress release from my back. I switched off the train and onto the m�tro at Les Halles, getting onto the crowded line 4.
At Od�on, the doors opened and people began the get-on, get-off dance. Suddenly, from my left hand side, there was a sharp, loud popping sound, followed by an incredibly loud hissing. My first thought was that something was wrong with the engine, and then a slower, calmer thought of bombs or gas came to mind.
Before I knew it, our car was a stampede of crazed people running from the poison gas released in the air. Screaming, yelling, trampling... several people fell and I acutely heard one young woman yell for her mother from across the train.
My knee-jerk reaction in all terrifying situations is to see the world in slow-mo. This has come to be a handy tool, as I have a tendency to remain calm while others flip their shit.
As everyone around me furiously scrambled to get off the train, I looked over to the corner where the noise was and noticed everybody was looking at the floor. Mysteriously, the section at the heart of the noise was calmest, while the rest of the train was a pandemonium. I remained standing where I was, and the doors shut. Looking out onto the platform, frightened teenagers were crying and staring fearfully at the root of the noise.
I still don't know what it was, but I was one of only six remaining people on the train. It made me happy because I got to sit down for the rest of the ride.
If it had been poison nerve gas, however, I'd be so dead right now.
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