One of the things I was most looking forward to about Paris was taking the Metro. Generally enthusiastic about public transportation, the Metro for me is what Vegas is for lots of people. Kind of a weird thoroughfare that's loveable and addictive in its (frequent) atrocity.
Sometimes you see people urinating, sometimes you almost get hit in the head by a drunk guy's bottle of rum as he dances wildly with his reflection, sometimes it's so packed you're breathing someone else's hair because it's in your trachea.
And by you I mean me -- these things have all happened already. But most of the time it's really nice.
With the exception of the aforementioned pee incident, I really like the smell of the metro. On the platform there's always a nice scent of different perfumes, hot metal and lightly burnt rubber from the tracks. The combination reminds me of Christmastime at Union Square with those roasted chestnut carts . It's also a balmy 20 degrees warmer down there, which will continue to be cozy until it gets warmer, when it will just be sticky and gross.
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