Etiquette on the Ditie

I'm willing to bet that the first person to declare that "chivalry is dead" did so immediately after riding the Beijing subway. The subways are sparkling clean, no one eats or drinks anything, and Beijing's constant soundtrack of loogie-hocking and snot-rocketing is noticeably absent.

Yet the Beijing subway, or ditie, is every man, woman, and disabled person for himself.

As a rule of thumb, the subway is always full. It doesn't matter if a massive, incredible amount of people just exited the subway car like items from Mary Poppins' purse; your car will be jam-packed. On the 4 train, which comes to Beida, there is a glass screen on the edge of the platform, so its impossible to fall in or stand too close to an oncoming train. Outside each door, a mob of passengers gathers immediately after the previous train leaves. Regardless of how much earlier you arrived at the platform than they did, rest assured that even the nicest-looking person will sidestep and squirm their way to the front and center of the mob if there's so much as a sliver of open space.

One of the more exciting things that a visitor to China can witness is the battle of wills, wits, and guts that occurs each time a subway car arrives and its doors open. It's like watching reenactments of old Revolutionary War battles. There are two solid lines of combatants: those entering the train, and those leaving it. Both will charge straight ahead, and something must give way. The passengers that attempt to leave the train obviously want to get off quickly; it's human nature, plus that's generally how subways work. Those on the outside, however, know that for a precious 3 seconds, the car will be much emptier than at any other point in their journey. In those 3 seconds, all of the seats will be taken, there will be no more partitions to lean on, and those unfortunate enough to not make it through the initial charge of riders will be left to awkwardly stand in the middle of the car. Riding in the middle, with nothing to grab on to but the heavy-breathing people around you, is something akin to surfing in a tiny inflatable pool that features 15-foot waves. Waves that smell like bad tofu.

In the mad scramble that occurs at each major station, it's not uncommon to see grown men push women and children aside. A few times I've seen young men give up their seats for elderly people, but that's it. In Boston I routinely give up my seat on the T for most any woman, child, or uncomfortable looking person; here, it just doesn't happen. My favorite is when a cute-looking young couple gets on the train, and then the man rushes to grab the last open seat and forces his girlfriend to stand. It's hilarious, and apparently, acceptable.