People of Stockholm, Your Attention Please (Part 3)

Now, we've covered certain elements of the ordinary run-of-the-mill Stockholmer's ability to get in the way in a previous article, but unfortunately it just doesn't seem to end with the somewhat simplified version that I presented back then. There seem to be many different situations in which Stockholmers just don't seem to quite "get" the concept of personal space. I refer to this as a "lack of spatial awareness" but I've known many a newcomer to the city who referred to it in, how shall I say, somewhat more colourful terms.

Living in Stockholm you just can't escape the Tunnelbana (or Subway/Underground/Metro/U-bana or whatever). The city may feel as if it doesn't strictly speaking require such a transport system - despite what the politicians tell us the streets are not chock-a-block and many a busier city gets by just fine without one. The wide streets and relatively stretched-out nature lends itself to buses, but as with all other cities now that it has one the people - and this the culture - has extended itself to incorporate and to some extent require it. The Tunnelbana is as socialist as the average Swede himself, young and old, rich and poor all use it. Yet somehow some really quite basic concepts seem to have slipped out of the collective consciousness.

The Tunnelbana, Yesterday

Using a train involves four basic stages: buying your ticket, getting on, sitting and getting off and at each of these stages something just seems to have gone strangely wrong in Stockholm. And yes, you're right. I'm going to discuss them.

The whole concept of a ticket for public transport seems unusual to certain Swedes. This is normally how you differentiate between someone who votes Socialdemokraterna (the Social Democrats) and someone who votes for Vänsterpartiet (the rebadged, rebranded and relaunched Communists). Socialdemokraterna are all for social equality but, like equivalent parties in other European countries, have faced up to the fact that not everyone agrees with total socialism and hence have lent slightly more to the centre. Hence much as though Socialdemokraterna would like everyone to use the Tunnelbana they realise that there will be people that don't but yet will pay for other form of transport, for example their own personal cars, so making everyone pay for it is a trifle unfair. Hence we have tickets, but with season tickets at a comfortably subsidised rate. Those who lean a bit more to the left and the world of Vänsterpartiet think it should be all paid by taxes and hence the whole system of tickets would be abolished (although I'm not sure how they think all the tourists that use the system will be funding it).

This has developed the rather unusually accepted sport of not paying for your ticket. There is a fairly open and well supported pressure group that supports civil disobedience by not paying, known as planka.nu ("att planka" being the Swedish verb for "to not pay for your train ticket"), and people flying past the barriers are a common site in the Tunnelbana's stations. In almost six years of living here I am yet to see anyone even give a disapproving stare. Planka.nu even has a fund to cover fines. Everyone contributes to the fund (which, presumably, is cheaper than a ticket) and the fund is used to pay any fines that members receive.

Yes, you did read that right. There are ticket barriers at the stations but people still manage to get past them. The older, turnstile type can actually be traversed by "wiggling the turnstile a bit" (technical term) as you pass through. The later "swooshy door" type is a bit more sophisticated, requiring that somebody, somewhere has a valid ticket. Then if you stay close enough behind that person it'll stay open for you as well. Allegedly this maneuver can be performed in a "train" fashion allowing several people to get through on one ticket.

OK, I can accept that when they made the first barriers there was a slight screw-up which allowed a culture of non-payment to start, but there really is no excuse for, at considerable cost, embarking on a scheme of barrier replacement that brings in a whole new generation of barriers that still fail to stop people in the way that barriers in other countries have been doing for decades. Bizarrely, knowing that there is this problem the clever chaps that run the Tunnelbana (Connex, who lost two rail-line contracts in the UK for being simply pathetic) don't bother most of the time to have guards who can stop you "planking". It is almost as if they want you to not pay ...

Assuming that you've done the decent thing and got a ticket, you'd imagine that getting on the train would be a simple job, wouldn't you? Train arrives, let people off and then get on. Simple. However there is something in the phrase "let people off" that just doesn't seem to work here. Trains arrive and everyone, young or old, happily stands directly in front of the doors and attempts to push their way on. Now, this isn't rocket science people. Inside the train is a SMALL SPACE and outside is a BIG SPACE. Hence we should let people filter out from the SMALL SPACE to the BIG SPACE before we try to cram even more people into the SMALL SPACE. What is wrong with that? How can anyone even begin to think that anything else is better? How? How? For the love of God someone tell me how.

Admittedly there is an amount of blame that has to be passed on to those getting off (or alighting as they used to say), who have a tendency to be struck down with the "startled bunny" disease as they hit the platform, standing right in the middle of the doorway, blocking both those behind and those in front of them, as they try and work out what on earth they are supposed to be doing. I find walking in to these people to be a quite productive pursuit, but then again I am a big man, so this technique isn't guaranteed to work for everyone. It is hugely satisfying, though, In fact there has been the odd occasion that I, if I am am being truly honest with myself, have targeted people who looked pretty annoying when perhaps they weren't quite as in the way as I'd have liked them to be. But that's another story.

Now, for those not paying attention, that involves both getting on and off the train, which were parts two and four of the simple train-traversal guide I offered earlier, so don't go complaining that I left off one of the sections, OK?

Finally we get to the almost insultingly simple idea of sitting down. To be honest, these parts are getting more and more basic as we go along. Take someone who has never even seen or heard of a train before. He might have a bit of difficulty with tickets and barriers, but sitting down is sitting down. People since the dawn of time have been doing it. Surely even Stockholmers can't screw that up.

You see, sitting on the Tunnelbana ties in with the "lack of spatial awareness" that I mentioned earlier. Unlike similar transport systems in other countries, the Tunnelbana has only a single seat dispersion pattern, groups of four with two people facing another two. Hence the train can be broken down into multiple subsections that can be described as a 2x2 formation and hence discussing a single subsection can then be extended to the whole train without, you know, overcomplicating and discussing loads of other stuff. OK?

The Tunnelbana, Internal View
Notice the 2x2 formations

So, the first person to sit in a 2x2 subsection can sit wherever the Hell they want. This is obvious. Most people seem to like sitting with a window so they have something to lean on as they fall asleep, but there is the occasional weirdo that really loves the aisle. Now, here's the really tricky (if you come from Stockholm) bit: the next person to sit in the subsection must sit diagonally from the first person to sit there. Why? It is all about personal space.

I am six foot two (or 187cm if you are that way inclined). This means I have quite a lot in terms of legs. They go on for a bit. Thus it really is a pain in the arse when someone sits opposite me. I can't slump in a comfortable way, instead having to sit up straight, desperately pulling my legs back in case I TOUCH the person in front of me, which clearly would be a disaster. So, when I am sitting in my little 2x2 subsection on my own the ABSOLUTELY LAST place I want you to sit is right in front of me. That makes me uncomfortable for the rest of my journey (or until you leave to burn in the fiery pits of Hell, whichever comes sooner).

The alternative incorrect option is to sit next to me. Now that's just creepy. You only choose to sit next to someone if you know them, preferably intimately. Anything else is wrong. You choosing to sit next to me when there are two other options instantly makes me incredibly nervous, usually involving a flurry of disturbing images about how you are dreaming that you wish you were in some sort of relationship with me. As a taken man there is clearly no possible way, no matter how attractive you are, for this to be a good thing. Clearly. Just ask my girlfriend.

So that leaves a single seat left. The one diagonal. The one seat I really don't have much of a problem with you sitting in, except for the fact that it stops me stretching out and crossing my legs, but I'll give you that one as I do accept that other people have to use the Tunnelbana. Occasionally.

The rest is all pretty simple. The third person has two options, either of which is annoying to someone as they won't be able to stretch their legs anymore, and the final person has only a single option. So really it all comes down to the second person and that crucial diagonal seat option. Why can't Stockholmers seem to manage this seemingly obvious and simple decision? Do they not see how uncomfortable I am when they sit in front of me? Do they not understand how and why it is so damn creepy to choose to sit next to someone they don't know?

So there we go. Buying ticket, getting on and off the train and sitting down. Simple tasks that somehow become insanely difficult when you are from Stockholm. People of Stockholm, your attention please. Sort it out.

M Panda
Images "borrowed" from Lars Rådvall's site