Panic

     When I got on the second leg of my journey this morning, I had to cram myself into the train; standing on the bottom step, bags by my feet, head in a little pocket, my right breast almost resting on the ass of the guy in front of me.  I thought to myself, this isn't a problem Heather, as a ton of people are getting off at the next stop.  When we pulled into the next station, the wave moved forward to exit, but the door didn't open. I was able to step up one step and give myself a little more space for my head.  The door still didn't open.  And then the train pulled out.

     Immediately, a tiny bit of alarm set in on some faces, astonishment on others.  In the pit of my stomach, a moment of sheer panic sprouted.  It was hard to breathe.  I needed to get off now, almost said it out loud.  I pushed it down and tried to make more space for my head.

     When we pulled into the next station, the door didn't open again.  Someone laughed, some sighed, someone said kick the door, I said push on it, someone talked about not wanting to go to work anyway.  The door opened, and the hordes stepped out.  I was able to relax a little.

     This may be a long day.