Anticipation, restlessness, and chatter fills the air. I stand in line, bouncing on the tips of my toes waiting. The line for train tickets presses on me, literally: I move a step and the person behind me moves two. People loiter around offering rides while others hover around the ticket counter, listening and trying to bypass the line. In my head, I rehearse the conversation I will have with the teller in Chinese:
“I want to buy a ticket to Shanghai.”
“Today?”
“Yes, now.”
A quick 40 kuai later I have my ticket for a train in 45 minutes. I walk out of line briskly, ignoring the usual stares and quiet mutters of “laowai.”
Passing through security is easy and quick. The electronic board that flashes train numbers, places, and times shows my train number and where I should wait. Waiting room 7. I head up the escalator and walk to the designated area. It’s already filled with passengers waiting for various trains as well as my own. The seats are all filled. Some people eat snacks and drink bubble tea. Others stare at their phones, playing games or watching tv shows. I lean against the wall on the periphery and look on as a group of men sit on their baggage and play cards. A young mother entertains her young child across from me. The sound of voices fades to a dull hum as I stick in my headphones and wait patiently for time to pass by.
Soon enough, the electronic sign flashes to yellow and it’s time to board the train.
No orderly line forms. People mass together, pushing as one body rather than as individuals trying to file through. I wait on the outskirts, trying to let the mass go through the gates before I do. In time, I too get carried along with the crowd. I surrender to the mass movement and give up any idea of personal space. I’m surrounded shoulder to shoulder and back to back. We press forward and I watch as people try to cut in from all sides. We move through the gates in a haphazard, survival of the fittest sort of way. Once on the platform it’s as if the train will leave in less than a minute. The atmosphere feels rushed and anxious. I find myself hurrying along to my compartment even though the train won’t take off for another ten minutes. I squeeze into the train car simultaneously with five others and weave my way to my seat. A quiet cheer goes through my head as I lay eyes on my window seat.
And then suddenly we’re moving. It’s so slight and quiet that it can easily be missed if you are distracted. I watch the landscape of Suzhou pass by faster and faster. Landmarks that have become familiar are left behind as we move on. I sit back in my chair and listen to my music. In a short 30 minutes I am in Shanghai and thrust into the bustle of the subway and crowds. It’s only a weekend trip. It will be concluded the same way it started, with a train ride.