The sound of confinement

You step inside your new cage. You paid the 2 pesos, so you have every right to be here. So do they. You find a spot, grab a pole and hope for the best. You begin to sweat, because you realize that you might not be able to make it out in one piece. Doubts arise: will I be able to get off when I need to? What if someone knifes me? What if...
Suddenly there's a rush; sounds around you, sounds inside your head and a rising temperature. You stand your ground in the swarm. Then you realize that the ground isn't yours; that it isn't your right to complain, to try to stand tall or to worry. You're the outsider. You're not the one who has to deal with this heat, the congestion, the germs, the insecurity and the general discomfort daily. You get room when you ride. You're the outsider.
And then a smile. And then a conversation. And then you share the same complaints. You understand. Even if you're ephemeral, so are they. Although this is their city, it's yours for now too. Respect it, complain about it and make use of it because for 3 months- it's home.
You get off the metro and you start wondering how you can avoid this experience again in the future. The pushing, the smells, the heat, the pain when a purse is jabbed into your ribs because one of the 4 surrounding women has been shoved by someone desperately trying to exit; it's all too much.
You arrive at the destination, go up the lift, look out the window and you again realize- this is going to be my home for now. When push comes to shove, a little crowding probably vale la pena. You are stuck staring out the window, trying to absorb every bit of this beauty, before you head back underground.