When I left to study abroad in London, I looked forward to learning and seeing all kinds of things. I wanted to see places I’d read about, and stare at the Rosetta Stone and go to the filming locations for Sherlock. I’m doing all of that (and loving it), but a lot of fun has come from somewhere I never expected – the underground. Today, I’d like to share a few gems of wisdom of varying importance that I have gleaned in the Tube.
The first has to do with the title for this blog: Extremely polite intercom announcers regularly advise passengers to (insert accent here) “Mind the gap between the train and the platform.” Even when they tell you that, sometimes you forget, because most of the time, the gap isn’t all that noticeable. But when it is, it’s big, and it means business. So mind it. Getting off a train, you have to pay attention to where you are (on the train) and where you want to be (safely on the platform). So often when I hop over the hole between the two, I can’t help but wonder what I would be able to accomplish if I were to literally look where I am going more often. What would happen if I always paid the same kind of attention to where I’m going and who I’m becoming along the way?
I’ve also learned this: One can be awkward and still get around with grace. One can be socially uncouth and manage. One can be American and get along in London marvelously. But awkward Americans who end up in socially uncouth situations like, say, stepping on someone’s toe on the tube, will simply not be the survivors in a Darwinian model. End of story. Which is why the first word I learned to successfully (I hope, though perhaps delude myself) pronounce in an English accent was, “sorry.”
Thirdly: Poetry is important! (And I’m using that exclamation point because I mean it.) For ages, the London underground has had bits of poetry displayed in its corridors and on the trains. The tradition continues today, and there are entire poetry anthologies called “Poetry on the Underground.” They are lovely, and people read them all the time. It doesn’t have to be Shakespeare, Milton or Byron, but it’s got to be something, and can be pleasantly surprising. Poetry is also lovely when read in a park.
Lastly, watch what you say, and remember that your words carry weight. Even if you don’t remember them, someone else might. If one says something really ridiculous on the tube, it might just end up in the “Word on the Street” of TimeOut magazine. Real examples include “Is it racist that I don’t like blue smarties?” and “Once when I was eating sand, I ate a ladybird” and “I like toast. You know who else liked toast? Elvis.”
We don’t know what they mean either, but smarties are the delicious English m&m equivalent, if that clears things up.
But silliness aside, it matters to notice people,to make them feel like they matter, and that is really clear on the tube. There is something astonishingly powerful about hearing a man stop to bless a sneezing woman as he rushes off the train, or watching strangers help each other with their luggage.
When you’re packed in a train with strangers, and feeling like a sardine, you suddenly realize that a little thoughtfulness goes a very long way.