Outside of match day peak-hour the Rio Metro is a dream; air conditioned, roomy, frequent. And that’s how our trip to Maracana started – like a dream – but after about five stops the carriage became like the stomach of a six-year-old who’s just left Pizza Hut after enjoying the all-you-can-eat dessert bar; Dangerously full, with a high possibility of unplanned evacuation.
A relatively unique feature of the Rio Metro is that the doors open on both sides of the train. Normally this facilitates the flow of passengers, making it easier for everyone to get off and on the carriage. The flaw in this practice comes during what Transport for London would call ‘times of increased demand’. Or, to put it more simply, when more people want to get on than off. When that happens regulating passenger movements becomes a bit like squeezing a stress ball. Squeeze it to the left and the ball bulges on the right. Try to gather in the bulge on the right and a fresh bulge is created somewhere else. Go after that bulge and the original one on the right reappears. And so on.
The whole thing is made significantly more problematic by the fact that while all train doors open at the same time, the doors on one side are closed slightly earlier than the doors on the other.
Here’s how it works. The train pulls in, the doors on both sides open and everyone outside the train attempts to get inside the train. Scrum time. Size and strength are a slight advantage here but technique is important too, and the wiry can be just as successful but only when they have enough weight behind them to ensure the passengers on their side win the battle of the bulge against the group attempting entry from the opposite door. Lose that battle and you’re never going to make it. Having observed this practice at close quarters, I can tell you that the key to a successful entry is to force at least two of your limbs onto the train before the doors close. After that you can rely on the action of the closing doors to suction you into the carriage. However, this technique only works when your door is the first to close. If yours is the second, then the sheer volume of sweaty humanity already on the carriage will prevent you from getting on. The only exception to this is if the person attempting entry is slim enough to employ the ‘wedge technique’, which involves working yourself in between two passengers already on the train. This can be difficult, but is by no means impossible. It doesn’t make you may friends though. In fact, getting on makes you exactly zero friends among those already on the carriage who, thanks to you, are now finding breathing a challenge.
Half way to the stadium I realised that a high pitch squeal sounded as the doors closed. Initially I though this was some kind of alarm but closer inspection revealed that a child had actually become wedged into the runners of the closing door.
Kidding.
So, a pretty unpleasant journey all up and one we were keen to avoid on the run back to the hostel, which is why we left the ground 10 minutes before full time and shortly after the home side took a 3-1 lead thanks to their new import, Vagner Love. Interesting name.
Early departure was a good move and left us on a relatively empty train heading back into the city. Everything seemed to be going well for about two stops until the train unexpectedly started heading backwards. This was confusing. More confusing was the fact that when the train came to a halt again we were at a station on a completely different line to the one on which the train had started. Worse still the detour had taken about 15 minutes and the platform was smothered with football fans.
That is all,
Dale Atkinson
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