Sick of Metro stories yet? I hope not, because since my life has taken a turn for the busier this past week, I've been spending a lot more time aboard everybody's favorite underground train. In other words, it's likely that you'll be hearing a lot about my adventures in the kingdom of Bip! cards and orange plastic seats.
Despite the countless times I've traveled on the Santiago Metro over the past few years, I've never once heard the conductors do what I would if I had their job: get creative when announcing the names of the stations. It must take a heck of a lot of self control to rattle off the same rosary of station names for hours each day without adding a personal touch.
The first time I heard a subway driver snap was in D.C. He announced each station with a raspy, ominous voice similar to that of the mummy from Tales from the Crypt. I broke into a smile when he hissed, "Next stop: Metro Centaaaaaaaah," and I continued to grin contentedly as the train hurtled forward toward what apparently was grisly doom.
Ever since then, I've been waiting. And on Friday, I got my reward. It wasn't exactly Tales from the Crypt, but the the sing-song exaggerated formality with which the driver proclaimed, "Los Heroeees, combinacioooooon con la Linea Dossssss" made me smile long enough to forget how much my feet hurt. Something tells me the driver knew what it was like to be trapped in an underground tangle of elbows at 8:30 p.m. and wanted to do his part by reminding us that it was, after all, Friday.
The woman who saved my artichoke
4 weeks ago