In tonight’s evening rush hour, hundreds of Chileans and a few of us gringos piled into a train on the metro’s busiest line.

Faces squashed up against the doors like bugs on a windshield. Pairs of shoes fought each other for the chance at sturdy footing; I lost the battle and hung in some kind of mid-air limbo, seemingly defying gravity as a sea of bodies kept me afloat until I could get a limb back on solid ground. It was as if we were a deck and a half of playing cards being shoved into a single box, those out of line shuffled around hopelessly trying to fit in the pack.

The sound of a cooling system chugged above, the noise serving as the only proof it was turned on in the chaos of sweaty strangers. Chug, chug, swoosh … the noises offered hope that air other than our neighbor’s breath would soon wash our faces … chug, chug swoosh. But then, a break in the pattern gave way to tired voices while the lights flickered and dimmed.

A power outage.

The metro slid to a stop at a terminal, but the doors would not open. Worried shouts carried an expression that broke all language barriers.

The earthquake’s epicenter was in Valparaiso, a coastal city at least an hour and a half outside of Santiago, so the metro was running again within two minutes as if it barely missed a beat.

In fact, I didn’t realize that what I had experienced was caused from the aftershocks of a 5.1 temblor until my roommate informed me of the news when I arrived home.

Aside from the brief flash-frame in my mind that my stint in Santiago would end with me being crushed as the metro mob tried to push the doors open … all is well.

I survived a sort-of earthquake, a more-than busy train ride and my first class of ESL teacher training (more on that later) all in one day.

—JDF