Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The Longest Four Minutes

And vying for the longest four minutes of my life....today we finally have a reason to put into use our Emergency Metro Protocol.

Growing up, I remember that every place we went -- every store, festival, amusement park -- the first thing we would do when we arrived was come up with a meeting spot in case we got separated. There was always a plan: e.g. Meet at the big information booth in front of the roller coaster on the hour. This was before the days of cell phones, of course. One would assume this was to keep my brother, sister, and me from getting lost, but in fact it was generally because my dad would wander off to take pictures of something that interested him (which is everything) and lose the rest of us.

So with my family training, one of the first things I did when we moved to Paris was come up with an Emergency Metro Protocol. I drilled the girls on it so much, they would groan when I even brought up the subject, but I wanted them to do it reflexively when the occasion arose. I say "when" and not "if" because, really, it seemed inevitable to me that one day we would be separated getting on or off the metro.

On our way to gymnastics today, Pippa gets on first, and the train is not making the buzzing noise that warns the doors will soon close. I am partway on the train just as I hear an unusually anemic buzz, so low I'm not even sure it's for our train, but I turn around to see how far behind us Gigi is. She's walking slower than usual because she's a little sick, and in that moment of my hesitation, the door closes. As 95% of me is still on the platform, I have no choice but to pull my foot out and watch as my little seven-year old goes off on the Paris metro -- alone.


Usually, the next train comes within two minutes. Often, it comes within one minute or less. But Murphy's Law goes into effect, and this time there is a four minute interval.

Emergency Metro Protocol: Whoever is on the train gets off at the next stop, at the same door, and does not move. Whoever is left behind gets on the next train and meets up with the first person at the next stop.

I have friends here who say they teach their daughter to stay put if they get separated, which is fine normally when you can retrace your steps. But I'm trying to convince them that wouldn't work if she's the one on the train. Does "stay put" mean she should stay on the train to who-knows-where? Or find her way back by herself on the metro? No. Our Emergency Metro Protocol is a simple but elegant solution, because otherwise we would be panicking and running around wondering who is going to whom. In some stations, it can be very complicated to find the train going in the opposite direction, and it's clear to me that backtracking would make it more difficult and take longer to reunite.

I see through the window that Pippa has a slightly worried face as she goes off alone, and she says she gets some stares on the train and when she gets off alone and waits on the platform. While we wait, Gigi tries to ask about an ad she sees, and I have to say, "I can't concentrate on a thing you're saying. I'm just watching the clock and breathing and assuring myself it will be OK." Gigi is totally confident. "Pippa knows what to do. She's going to do the right thing." And I agree with that, with 100% confidence. What Gigi doesn't know that I do, however, is that there are some weird people out there....But still, it seems pretty safe having Pippa stay on the platform, in full view, and she absolutely knows that she is not to go anywhere with anyone. If somebody wants to stay with her to make sure she's OK till I get there, she can't stop them (and, frankly, if I saw a small child alone, that's what I would do as a stranger), but she is not to leave that spot.

Indeed, when our train pulls into the next station, four loooooooooong minutes later, she is leaning against the wall. She buries herself in my chest for a while and cries a little, but I am so proud that she does just what she should do and holds it together while necessary. Yeah for the Emergency Metro Protocol and for Pippa -- our successful independent urban seven year old!

(So why doesn't she look sad or scared? Because this photo is staged after the fact...)
 
 
 
 


 

1 comment:

Kristin said...

Good for you, Kazz, for having a set of rules! We're going into Lyon tomorrow for the day and I'm going to initiate this protocol. Thanks for the tip.