Dear Germany,
Let me laugh out loud for a few minutes. Hahahah. There, done! If that was the best you could do for a rush hour, you make me (happily) sick. Honestly, I’ve seen more people on the G train in the morning (the G train for G-d’s sake!) that I do every morning on the U2. I’ve mentioned this before but I feel like you’re hiding something from me — oh yes, the people.
Today was a little better, though, in other regards. Now that the snow is abating, the bicycle lanes are back to a fraction of what they’re like on regular days (or so I hear). I was almost mown over by a determined cyclist while coming back from lunch. They’re fast and fearless of new expats. And they’re in the right. Mostly. More on the subject of cyclists later … let’s get back to the rush hour. Here, in Berlin, rush hours tend to last about 30 minutes and consist of people standing for about three stops (between Potsdamer Platz and Alexanderplatz). The rest of us sit. Yes, some people stand but mostly that’s because they want to. There’s no good reason for them to stand. I sometimes stand, just to feel like I’m being hemmed into someone’s armpit on the C train’s morning rush to Manhattan (ahhh, the C train).
What I do find refreshing, more than the thought of Brooklyn armpits, is the civilized concept that we’re all adults and don’t have to show a ticket to get onto the train. It is lovely to be able to breeze onto the station and just jump into a car, knowing that you’ve got a valid ticket and no-one expect anyone to be schwarzfahren (black riding, or fare-evading). Highly civilized, indeed, and something to be exported.
Yours, as ever,
Germanofile
