I would never try to squeeze through the doors of the subway when they’re already closing, even though so many people attempt to do this all the time. It’s dangerous, first of all. Do you need to be reminded of the man who died after being dragged by the train whose doors he was caught in?
But second of all, I don’t bother trying because I know I’d never make it through. I know this because every time I start getting onto a train and then the doors start to close after I’ve already begun, they finish closing on me and force me to step back out.
I watch others master the skill almost every day–the skill of being caught in the doors yet still making it inside the train. These people don’t even appear to be using much strength when pushing open the doors. The doors get caught on them, so the doors open.
Yet every time I find myself caught in the doors from attempting to board just before they close, I can’t get the doors to release. I end up bruised and scraped and still missing the train.
Except yesterday. I was in the middle of stepping onto the train when the doors closed on me, like so many times before. I don’t know if I was just moving a fraction of a second faster than I had in the past. I don’t know if fate just for once decided to step in and do something (ha, yeah right; it surely didn’t). What I know is I heard the doors closing, I felt them push into me, just like always, and I looked down to see the red scrape on my left hand and a bruise on my right elbow–but when I did this, I was standing inside the train as it left the station.
To anyone who doesn’t take the train every day, this small victory may not seem like much. To anyone who watches others make it past the doors without ever having been caught in them herself, this recounting may seem overly dramatic.
To anyone who never makes it through, I hope this true story has given you just a little bit of hope.