My first trip on the Metro was all right.
It was like everyone was on acid.
I've never seen train passengers get so hyped up.
There was a whole family in red holding red balloons, because they were gliding through the Red Line, and it was the mom's birthday.
Some people worked their way to the front of the train (nudging me, shoving their armpits in my face) to get a good view of Dubai by night.
Others sat still but looked giddy and smiled all throughout the trip, as if they wanted to scream but thought it was better to keep the excitement to themselves.
I wanted to do a walk-through piece to camera on the train, but I couldn't possibly walk while it was moving, because the ride was a bit bumpy and I was wearing high heels, as instructed by my producer.
We thought there was a press conference after the ride.
But it was just a ride. A joy ride. More like an ecstasy ride.
I'm glad people didn't get around to giving each other free hugs.
Or feeling each other up.

The trip had a different effect on me.
Or I was taking a different drug.
It gave me a nostalgic high.
It reminded me of Metro Manila's MRT and my turbulent days after stepping out of college.
My first job interview at an advertising company was made possible by a 10-peso Cubao-Ortigas MRT ride.
It wasn't a good one though.
I kicked ass during the interview but failed a trick exam, the one with squares inside cirlces and dots inside ovals and you have to choose from a, b, c, or d the best shape that completes the pattern.
The boss said he would still hire me if I didn't get a boyfriend.
So I left the jerk in his office without saying a word, and my day would have sucked if I had to take the bus all the way back home.
But I didn't have to.
MRT saved my day.

What a stupid flashback.