"Where's Your Dog?" and other pleasures of the Paris Metropolitan

Matching buns near the entrance to the Opéra metro stop.

Some things you might see while aimlessly following Line 6 of the Metro:

• A person in a giant bunny costume chatting nonchalantly with friends
• A world-class accordianist playing "Carmen"
• An American tourist couple panicking as the husband's backpack is caught in the ruthless automatic doors
• A small boy, old African woman, and middle-aged businessman all sneaking glances at you through the reflection of the door.

My personal favorites are the "metro crazies" who inspire Alyssa to ask me "Where's your dog?" when I act particularly strange. These lovely persons mumble (or yell, accordingly) throughout your underground sojourn -- to themselves-- and are almost always accompanied by an adorable pooch.

There's so much to see inside any metro train to make you die laughing or to clutch your purse in terror.

So much, that once you finally take a breath of fresh air at the top of the stairs, you forget the outside world has anything to do with the circus of sights, sounds, and smells below. 


So when I followed line 6, dutifully getting off at every stop, I made a discovery. Had an epiphany.

There are metro crazies everywhere.
Above and below.

In fact, the city is teeming with tourists, musicians, and limitless people to watch and admire and run from. And though I was supposed to learn about metro history through this project, I think I made an equally important connection:

The metro is a beautiful, smelly place where we're all squished together and allowed to admire one another's insanity.

Chouette. Groovy.