Even for a regular rider, a trip into an urban American subway system long has involved a leap of faith. The systems are, by definition, subterranean. The third rail, a metaphor taken from the ground-level electricity used to power subway cars, implies danger in all fields.
At night, stations can be lonely and feel dystopian. By day, crowds can push against you, causing you to worry about falling onto the tracks or, these days, being pushed. And even when the train comes, we’re all familiar with the moment after the door closes and someone with a hustle bids the car hello. No wonder most passengers in Chicago breathe easier when the Red Line emerges from the earth, south of Roosevelt Road and north of North Avenue.
On the other hand, these oft-ancient systems can be faster than traveling above ground and they free up street space for cars, bikes and pedestrians. They’re better for the environment than automobiles. They don’t clog streets like buses. And in some cities — Paris and, yes, Moscow come to mind — they can even be beautiful. On vacation, emerging from a station in an unknown neighborhood can be a thrill.
