I leave work at 6pm at usual and walk the ten minutes to Catedral station before descending the steps to the subte. To my surprise, there's a thick wall of people on the platform, about six deep until it reaches the platform edge. What the...? I'm used to this in London at rush hour, but it's the first time it's been like this here in a whole week so I know it's not normal.
I could walk back up to street level and get a taxi, but I don't really want to spend money to get a taxi home from work when I can get the tube - I'm just going to have to get used to this. I wait and after five minutes or so, the train arrives. It's empty because this is the first stop on the line, so the entire thick wall of sweaty bodies piles in and we stand like sardines, waiting for the doors to close. Unfortunately, because I was at the back of the human wall, I find myself crushed in the doorway between an enormous sweaty fat man and a couple of tall, skinny, long, greasy-haired men.
There seems to be a struggle for the doors to close and I hear a throat-clearing over the loud speaker, followed by a very short announcement from the driver. Unfortunately, I don't understand a word that he says as he speaks so quickly, except I know it's bad because it leads to a collective groan from the mass of sweaty passengers.
We stop at the next stop and dozens more people squeeze in, squashing me even tighter into my smelly human sandwich. Then, at the next station, we stop, but the doors don't open. After a while, I hear the driver's voice again and this time I understand, "There is a problem with the doors. They won't open. We will continue to the end of the line, Congreso de Tucuman."
Congreso de Tucuman?! That's 15 stops away! He gives us absolutely no opportunity to get off the now-moving train and we're forced to stand like sardines all the way to the very end of the green line. I can barely stand as the amount of floor space beneath me is not equivalent to the amount of space my feet take up and I'm practically on tiptoes, half crouching, one leg bent out to the side in excruciating fashion while I simultaneously try to keep hold of my two heavy bags.
Finally, after about 15 minutes of slowly moving through stations without stopping, the train stops and I hear another muffled announcement. I don't quite catch all of it but, as the doors open, I realise I have an opportunity to alight and I seize it. I step off and follow the mass of people as they confusedly move up the escalator. This is Pueyreddón station. I know it's not too far from Palermo - five stops - and I can just get a taxi. The rest of the tube line seems to be broken anyway.
But the moment I step out of the station, I realise the sky is black and it is literally bucketing down with torrential rain. A hundred or more passengers have just got off at the same station and there are various buses letting people off too. There isn't a taxi in sight. I walk across the road and try to fathom the signs at the bus stops, but they make no sense.
I wander further. Surely I'll find a bus at some point that's heading towards Palermo - it really isn't far, but it's too far to walk in this rain. I stand in a shop doorway and Blackberry my colleague back at work for advice and he tells me which buses to look out for, but there are none.
I walk around in the rain, searching for a taxi. Several go past me with their lights on without stopping. More than one drives past and splashes me dirty black puddle water. As I get more and more saturated with the rain, I get more and more exasperated and allow myself to think, for the first time, I HATE Buenos Aires. How can there be no taxis in the rain?
I walk for 30 minutes in the rain. It's coming down harder and the taxis seem to be more and more scarce. There's only one thing for it - I have to go back to the tube.
I've walked aimlessly and I have no idea where I am, so I have to just retrace my steps until I finally get back to Pueyrredón. I descend the steps and see that finally the platform has emptied out. A train eventually comes along and I get off ten minutes later at Palermo and walk the remaining ten minutes down the cold, dark, rainy streets to home, where I jump straight into a hot shower.
It's taken me 1 hour and 50 minutes to get home. In London it used to take me 25 minutes. This is insane! I've missed my usual Skype slot with home and I'm so exhausted I'm not going to be able to do anything tonight. It's getting late. At this rate, my life is going to be working and commuting and nothing else.
Ugggh.
There's only one thing for it - I'm going to have to start running home.
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