The doors open with a swoosh, revealing a sardined car of subway riders. Their eyes dart back and forth, anxious for the inevitable rush of more people. I’m swept up in the motion. People pushing behind me, in front of me, on either side. An elbow jabs into my side. A boot comes down on my right foot. Someone yells “ai-yooooo ai-yo ai-yo!” in dismay. But magically, we cross through just as the bell rings and the doors swoosh closed. We exhale in relief, though there’s no room to breathe. We’re all frozen in place until the next transfer stop, when us newcomers become victims of the next rush.
This is my daily commute in Shanghai. Sounds like a great time, right? Once inside, the staring starts. As the only non-Chinese person in the car, I stand out like a sore thumb. Every 30 seconds, someone will look up from a game of Candy Crush or that half-asleep morning daze we’ve all experienced and do a double-take when they see me. I smile back. In fact, I am having a great time.
That hour each morning and evening has become a place of solace to me. Though I’m trapped in a metal box zooming through subterranean tunnels in Shanghai, I can go anywhere (just like Reading Rainbow). How, you ask? Podcasts and audiobooks. I learn about U.S. relations with Iran, how to properly use statistics, stories of National Geographic adventurers. They take me through time and space, and into the minds of thought leaders, artists, scientists, and regular people around the world.
Eventually, I arrive at my stop and the subway spits us onto the platform. I can breathe again. I can move again. But it’s bittersweet—-back to the real world. I’m just a guy on my daily commute.