3. Disassociate with Serge the Bunny
During COVID’s peak, the few times I did have to take the metro, I would do so without headphones. It was the first time in my life I didn’t listen to music, podcasts, or audiobooks on solo public transit trips.
I did this because I was terrified of being out during a global pandemic, and I wanted to be on alert if someone coughed near me. Plus I was pregnant at the time, so my brain was already a hormonal scramble of fear, anxiety, and exhaustion.
It was on these eerily silent rides that I would stare intensely into the soul of Serge the Bunny.
Serge le lapin or Lapin du métro parisien, as he is known in French, has been the mascot of the Paris metro for 45 years. His dumbstruck expression appears hundreds of times on each train, showcasing the dangers of fingers getting caught in doors. These signs are purposefully placed at a lower level so that they are easily visible to small children.
When I stared at Serge, I thought of the plaster casts made from the calcified ash remains found at Pompeii. Like them, Serge is forever preserved in his worst moment: sticking his hands in the automatic doors and becoming the literal poster child for reckless metro behavior.
If you contemplate Serge long enough, he becomes a conduit for your innermost thoughts. My COVID metro rides were quiet and nerve-wracking. I was usually on my way to a doctor’s appointment or to get my blood drawn. This was often the time I would mentally write my favorite checklist:
How Did I End Up Here:
In France
During a global pandemic
Pregnant
Protecting my hands from lethal microbes with vending machine gloves from the Grand Palais Christmas ice rink
Serge didn’t have an answer for this. But you don’t come to him for answers. He only bears warnings: learn from my mistakes. He is, after all, supposed to be your friend — that’s why his sign addresses you with the familar tu.
Cut to present day. The metro is back to its pre-COVID crowds, and I’m either blasting a podcast into my eardrums or locked in combat with two screaming babies. Serge is still there, of course, getting his fingers crushed for all eternity.
My daughter is obsessed with “the bunny.” She acts surprised and gleeful every time she sees him and often kisses his boo-boo. I know: in 2020, I was terrified of even touching a metro seat, but now I am turning a blind eye to my kid kissing a germ-ridden public transit sign. But still, I can only hope every passenger treats Serge with as much tenderness.