Personal Narrative: Surviving The Subway

Surviving The Subway

“Stay close to me, ok?” my mom warned as I hesitantly followed my family as we descended the stairs towards the subway. This was a new experience for me, the only subway I had ever been in was the sandwich shop. I was already overwhelmed by the noises and smells. The smell was like a full soccer team had just won their championship and were piled into their mom’s vans to go for ice cream, the noise as if a thousand babies screamed at once. My heart felt like it was racing in my chest as I flicked my fingers against my leg. The environment made me extremely nervous. My mother, noticing this, stopped and attempted to reassure me, adjusting her firm grip on my sweaty hand. As my family and I weaved our way through the giant masses of

People shouted over the deafening sound of the subway racing through the tunnels in an attempt to transport people as quickly as possible. Businessmen and women in dark suits rushed by me, late for a meeting. Families like ours entered the station, on their way to a museum. Tourists stared at the maps on the walls, vainly trying to decipher the confusing colored lines and symbols that were the subways stops. My mom handed me a yellow card that had “Metro” written across it in large blue letters. My dad went through the gate first, and then my mom helped my younger sister and I maneuver the gate as she followed us through. I swiped the card and pushed my way through the gate as quickly as I could, not wanting to get left behind for being slow. Grabbing onto my mom’s hand, I made the leap over the gaping chasm between the dirty floor of the station to the subway car. People were everywhere, every little space taken up by a human or a bag. With one hand I gripped the slick silver pole on the subway, the other one wrapped around my mom’s hand. I was super close to random strangers I did not