Stuck in the middle with you
Some years ago I was in London and trying to take the Tube from Piccadilly Circus to Kings Cross, where I was heading to see a play (my own) and was afraid I was going to be late. The problem was the sudden crush of people trying to get on the underground right there. Even though each elevator car was capable of carrying dozens of people, I was still a good three-to-four elevator carloads back in the crowd. And then I would still have to take the train. So I decided to take the stairs down to the underground platform. Giddy with decisiveness, I threw open the door and skipped down the steps, other people pulling away from the crowd to follow me down.
An eternity later, still making my way down the steps, the giddiness had worn off long before. I now knew why this was one of what are called “deep line” stations. I don’t know how deep this stairwell went, but one area of descent on the Northern line is about 20 stories. Imagine yourself descending down an airless narrow circular passageway deep into the bowels of the earth with the crush of humanity behind you, in front of you, and to your left as a steady stream of people also tried to squeeze by on the way up, and then imagine winding down that path in such circumstances for about 45 minutes. When I wasn’t thinking of turning around, I was thinking of passing out. Ever since then, I’ve thought about how far we’ve dug into the earth, and what might happen in tunnels, especially under water.
And so, I have on occasion thought about the Chunnel — the underground byway that connects London with Paris.
Yesterday, 2000 passengers were stuck in trains in that tunnel beneath the channel with no water, no light, no power, no air conditioning, no food, and no escape — for 16 hours. The only thing missing from this scenario was sprinting zombies, as in “28 Days Later.” Here’s a horror story that will stay with me for a while.