Why you’ll never catch me on the metro

Everyone has habits they can’t shake. Mine? Taxis. Or Ubers. Or, back when I was living in Mumbai, rickshaws.

It became such a running joke that even an ex-colleague once wrote a song about it. Complete with the line “taxi w***e.” Not my proudest nickname, but it stuck at the time. The truth is, if it’s more than a few minutes’ walk, chances are I’m opening an app and booking a ride. Even if it’s only five minutes away.

In Spain, friends and family tease me for always hailing a cab. In India, it was rickshaws everywhere. And my friends love to point out that you’ll never find me on the metro or the bus. They’re probably right.

For the longest time, I thought this was just me choosing comfort every single time. Convenience. Laziness, maybe. But lately, I’ve realised it’s not quite that simple.

What I’ve always loved about taxis is the space they give me. That small, temporary bubble where no one expects anything from you. No conversations. No eye contact. No navigating crowds or squeezing yourself into someone else’s personal space. Just a few quiet minutes where I can sit, stare out the window, and let my thoughts wander.

It becomes my thinking space. A decompression chamber. A moment to recharge before stepping back into the world. Even if it’s only for ten minutes, it matters. That pause has always been important to me. I need that little safety bubble, that sense of being alone while still moving through the city.

Rickshaws in Mumbai were a necessity. They were chaotic, loud, unpredictable, but somehow they helped me navigate the madness outside. You sat there, half exposed to the city, watching it all rush past, slightly removed from it at the same time. In Madrid, taxis do something similar, just in a different way. More comfort, more efficiency, the same sense of being carried through the noise rather than swallowed by it.

And then there’s the metro. The escalators. The platforms. The crowds. The standing too close. The occasional smells that no one asked for. I’ll be honest, it’s probably better for everyone that I travel privately. My face tells everything. I would absolutely look someone dead in the eye with an expression that says, “You stink,” without meaning to. For public safety reasons alone, taxis are the wiser choice.

Am I trying to get better at it? Sure. Old habits die hard. And maybe one day I’ll become that person who happily hops on the metro with headphones in, unfazed by the chaos. But for now, I’ve accepted that this habit is tied to something deeper. I’ve always enjoyed my own company. I’ve always needed space. And maybe taxis are just another way I’ve learned to give that to myself.

So I can’t help but wonder, is how we choose to move through a city really about convenience, or is it about how we protect our energy and carve out moments of quiet for ourselves?

Until I figure that out…

TAXIIII?!

— Raulito