A `hair-raising tale, of an incident that happened during one of my travels - and yes, this is a true story - no fiction, or imagination, believe me! It really happened!!! TRAVEL & ERROR Armin Wandrewala Whether the error was mine, or that of the Paris Metro, will now never be determined. It could have been fatal, but wasn’t. And that’s what makes it, in retrospect, a pleasantly hair-raising story over after-dinner coffee and liqueur … It happened in Paris. On my very first morning there! I had to get to Champs Elysees, for a pre-fixed meeting. My Parisian friend gave me detailed directions. Get to the nearest Metro Station --- Porte de St-Cloud --- buy tickets --- go to Platform No X --- get into the train destined for Mairie de Montreuil, and get off at the Franklin D. Roosevelt Station. Sounded easy enough! I reached Porte de St-Cloud, got my tickets and went to the designated platform. The train was at the platform, fully lit, the engine running. The destination was marked: `Mairie de Montreuil’ . My train --- but it seemed empty! It was 11 in the morning, I rationalized. Obviously past the rush hour, I Paris. I got into an empty compartment, quite sanguine. Within seconds of my boarding the train, the compartment doors --- four in all --- clanged shut. The train started. After chugging along for five minutes or so, it screeched to a halt. Signal, I told myself wearily. Five minutes passed. Another five. Another … After twenty minutes, I went up to the intercom which is supposed to connect one to the guard --- or the driver. “Hallo? hallo?!” Silence at the other end. The lights were still on in the train; the humming of the engine could still be heard. Why then, were we stationary for so long? Minutes crept past. Fighting down a surge of panic, I tried the outer doors. Three remained locked. One flew open. I peered out cautiously. The train was barely two feet away from the wall of the tunnel --- the electrified wall! In these Metros, not only the walls, but even the rails are electrified --- one wrong touch, one false step, and it could well be, Goombye, cruel world! I was in a quandary. Clearly, the train was going no farther. I seemed stuck in a lit train in a dark tunnel. What if the train lights should go off? I went to the door again, and gauged the distance from the ground to the compartment --- pretty high! I was wearing a trouser suit, and had a fairly heavy briefcase with me. Should I jump? I’d have to be careful not to touch the electrified wall of the tunnel, I cautioned myself. Jump? Or stay put in the train? I made the sudden decision. I jumped down, clutching my briefcase. Mercifully just about avoiding the wall of the tunnel. Now I’d torn it! There was no going back. No way could I now jump back on to the train. Now I had to get out of the tunnel. I fought down the panic. This is no time to lose yur cool, I told myself firmly. Having taken the irrevocable step of jumping down the train, now I had no choice but to go farther – wherever that led me! I started walking back. Past the still lit train. Past the driver’s cabin, which was empty! Some experiment with remote control? Doggedly, I walked on. It was a bizarre, surreal walk, the longest of my life! The pitch dark tunnel, appearing darker as the lit train disappeared behind me --- wires all along the tunnel, tiny lights glowing an angry red --- no end in sight. Weird thoughts assailed me. What if I couldn’t find my way out? I’d be wandering for days, in the labyrinth of the Paris Underground … What to do if another train came by? Stand still against the wall, trying not to touch it? … or lie down between the rails, and let the train pass over me? … (Horrors!!) It was then that I discovered my split personality. One part of me was convinced it was the end --- I started saying good-byes mentally. Another part remained ice-cold, experiencing the whole with the detachment of an onlooker. Don’t panic … keep your nerve … stay cool … imagine this is happening in a novel … or a movie … like Jean-Paul Belmondo chasing Alain Delon in the tunnel of the Paris Metro … Then it happened! I heard the sound of another train in the distance. I stood stock still, certain I was a goner. And then let out a sigh of relief as I noticed the headlights beaming onto another tunnel, diagonally crossing the one I was in --- the train was not coming into my tunnel, it was crossing it a little ahead. The train, full of people, thundered past ahead of me. And then stopped. I then realized that the station was not too far. Careful now, no complacency. Don’t touch the walls, don’t fall on the rails. At long last, I was back at the station of Porte de St-Cloud, where I had boarded the train. Walking through the tunnel. Luckily, the platform was on my side, with slats on which I could climb. There were warning signs all round: `Passage interdit’ `Verboten’ `Danger!’ Regardless, I climbed up on to the platform. The entire platform seemed to crowd around me, wondering what I’d been up to, down in the tunnel! When all was explained, one chivalrous Frenchman told me he was going to Franklin Roosevelt, and insisted on escorting me to Champs Elysees. He seemed horrified that I might jump off another train and have to walk again in the tunnel, again, I think! My friends still wonder how I came out of that tunnel alive. Perhaps the Devil really does look after his own! ***
Posted on: Wed, 04 Dec 2013 10:46:03 +0000