THE DESTINY

How many times I have traveled on the subway? What it since when I travel?


What I do know, is that one day, he climbed one of the cars a character bad-looking, dark-eyed inquisitive, dress all in black, tall, afro hair, curly shoulder-length, wearing a small sound system amplifier, plugged into an electric guitar and played modern way, by other master, a couple of Beatles tunes ... How wonderful was that!

It was a moment that, out of the ordinary. His voice was almost hoarse, raspy. Nothing Serena could barely hold the know-if I did not intentionally-but so impostaba transmitting a rhythmic feel, pleasant and joyfully contagious, typical of a pro. In addition to his style, he added a special touch to the original melodies.

That happened to me, three years or so ago ... He had managed to sit, rather, I failed, I embedded in the seat, when he had taken a few steps inside the wagon.

-Sorry sir, someone said I have to be that, one day but not on the subway! I said.
- You all right? Can not hurt, right?
- Man, the buttock landing was perfect, did not see you! - I said scornfully.
-I do not understand is because both crowds this day he answered apologetically ...

Station was Copilco and stating that it is one of the first stations in the long haul. But many in the city are all but impossible to move it at any time.

It was morning and the car was packed: Trips, shoving, complaints and murmurs maddening nest. The truth is as I said, I just sat and a strong push, and I could not even defend myself or putting your hands.

The metro moved from station to station without any delay, which already meant a great advantage. But no one descended, on the contrary, rose and rose more passengers. We were already a crowd canning. Needless to say, the strong odors. Many people could be seen with the naked eye, which had not bathed in days. Even had some very filthy conaspecto nothing gentle.

Meanwhile, watched all through the reflection of the glass of the window beside me. That pleased me while distracted me: A woman applying makeup clumsily and hastily. Another making combing, another beyond her nails. It is hard to credit that a transport wagon, the most important things, lose their significance. The point, apparently, is to impact on the job with a feminine touch dial, but this, has been given the uncertain swaying subway before the indifferent gaze of the passengers. Of course, no one in the car with a happy face.

For my part, and watching my face reflected in the glass, thinking things and worrying bleak: the payment of electricity, gas, telephone, maintenance of the building where
lived, buying groceries. I said "more days without great possibilities, pure outflows".

What! If someone just steal the push! - Maybe it makes me wonder if I had missed something-, pen and my pills for heartburn, had disappeared from the shirt pocket. Who cares! The pen, only cost me ten dollars and pads were already few. The push had left not even a big deal this time. The fatigue and boredom, I began to look everywhere and the day was just beginning. Damn, damn!

Suddenly, The Beatles! Something out of what is thought or seen regularly on public transport. Usually sellers disk address, gum, candy, folk singers, beggars, blind and a long etcetera.

The meter is a kind of collective unconscious where we included all, every day, with our innermost thoughts, sorrows and disappointments.

Well, it was in the shoe station, where it appeared the singer told them about, I say singer, a true artist, a performer of great headbangers Liverpool ... The filth of the crowded car, his mighty annoying noises and smells, vanished as if by magic. My head clearance of many inconsistencies and those songs made me feel like one of the best seats for a great concert. What audience or anything. My seat was in the front row and in the very metro.

The head had to have it cleared to become a real and true receptacle overflowing these interpretations: The Fool on the Hill and All You Need is Love What these songs, immortal!
"They think it's crazy
 He never listens to them, know that they are crazy
And they do not like,
the fool on the hill sees the sun
and his eyes in his head see the world spinning, turning, turning "...

"There is nothing you can do
can not be made,
Nothing you can sing
can not sung
nothing you can say,
but you can learn the game
It is easy
ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE!

The crowd quieted, calmed. Entered in tune. The incessant sound of huge underground hive, it was silent. The metro floated, smelled clean, the heat down, he found a niche, the minutes passed, but life stopped for an instant, and we did not give frenones stumbled with the convoy. Simply existed. It was spiritually alive.

So, we arrived at the station nearly Medical Center, for transhipment route to the observatory. He had the courage to drop the car. He was ecstatic. That day, a suddenly everything had reframed. Not understand or would not understand that I had to leave my seat. I still savored the haughtiness that monster performance, not only for his performance, but also for his imposing figure nice, dammit! Feelings are facts, no doubt, they influence our behavior. The mind does not alleviate, mitigate the emotional impressions!

Now why would fight the whole crowd. A crowd controlled apparently, but - I think - internally furious. I had no energy, could not get them out of nowhere. I did not want to stand up and start pushing the car and leave already. I did not want to wear out. It was a futile activity every day.

How to open this vast sea of ​​people? It takes almost a biblical miracle. Where to begin? People always get upset if one pushes. I did not want to discuss. I did not want. Much less fighting.
They were people, most, rude, rude, always on the defensive.

What a man! Many people to reach the exit door. Where demons appeared many?. - I told myself. Fatigue paralyzed me, consumed me ... At last the majority, came as triggered by a raging wave. And just like vomiting were thrown fish inside the car, this was reloaded as belly bottomless insatiable whale that swallows all without distinction, giving the impression that no one had ever fallen. It occurs more often in all transfer stations.

The car returned to start their march. He moved quickly. Through the window I watched all those who had been stranded at the station hopelessly twisted by muégano face.
-Glad you came down, I told myself not firmly. Perhaps I had stumbled, whatever happened I would not forgive me throughout the course of the day and the honey flavor that had provoked in me the immortal songs had vanished. Now, there is silence in me. Disappointments were completed. The music had defeated the. I was happy!

I sat. Wandering mentally. Watched the other passengers through the glass of my window. No thought. Neon light wagon, failed. At times he was turning pale, grayish, I was obscure. The darkness was always there with his silence. With its own beauty. But nobody noticed it. They did not care. The faces of the passengers indicated a hurry employee time is pressing them. They perceived silent, but restless, as if they were life. Always running around and not at all: To check your entries clock their workplaces!

The infernal heat raging underground! The summer season in the subway was very heavy. The engines of the climate in very little roof served. They seemed to just recycle the same air of desperation making sounds useless. Good lord, all moving here a desert underground city, an entire biological attacking against nature!

Nothing from which escape ...

Many jobs were lost that year. The economic situation was disastrous in the country. Most suffered from a shortage of job opportunities. Everything was expensive day by day. Liquidity was precarious. There was high unemployment. An ocean of unemployed polulaba everywhere. They seemed hunters in search of prey. Still, I felt like going down to meet with my work time. My pay was not much, but after all had jobs. But I did not care. It went down in the usual place. I stayed there several seasons. I do not know how many more. The people standing before me, had already fallen. The subway was already circulating outside their tunnel. The city with houses barely visible by the speed reached. Insurgentes Avenue North, stuffy car in two directions. Almost no spaces. Light poles everywhere. Cobwebs of cable for any use. Many trees and thorny bushes on the ridges. Beyond the Metrobus, leaving his whereabouts. Horns honking, tires screeching, drag and frenones. Smell of gasoline and burnt oil. Red sky orange. And a rumor metal of car engines. Mechanical Forest, forest colors and noise, rolling sea of ​​machines, there and there and there and there, with their respective  driving zombies.

And I, and I was far from my destination. What destiny? Does an asphalt jungle, machined, full of inefficiency, underdevelopment, irresponsibility, corruption and other vices, of huge crowds celebrating sad rites, exclusive of all beauty? Does that destination? What next? Viva Mexico, Viva la Virgen of Guadalupe! ... And the millions of Mexicans drunk and drooling, emitting roars seasoned national football stadiums every time you play every team, as a faithful witness of a great party alienating and manipulative ... Pure darkness eternal, endless, indignificantes ... What damned fate ?

Had it not been for one pair of interpretations of the Beatles on the subway, had arrived at the usual place where I waited so little satisfaction like any other day. Dammit! That monster city, he turned to the page with his superb performance and help to free me ...

The subway arrived at the end of its journey in Indian green. Hopefully it did every day of my life. Even today, I keep feeling that this was an extraordinary journey: "... The full on the hill ..." ... All you need is love "... Who cares, who cares, my miserable fate! ..