Ten Commandments (and One Potted Plant) of the Paris Métro

From forbidden houseplants to invisible stairway sins — a very serious investigation into the least serious rules of the métro.

May 09, 2025

Surprise post! I don’t usually show up in your inbox on a Friday — but after what I saw in the French news this week, I just had to write about it.

Let’s just say... it involves a houseplant, the Paris métro, and a fine that deserves its own Netflix series.

I’ve written this one in a light, cheeky tone — very much come along for the ride and laugh with me. Hope you’ll stick around ‘til the end.

Oh, and if you enjoy my work, feel free to subscribe (free is lovely, paid is even lovelier). Merci beaucoup — now, let’s dive in.

Let me tell you a story I read in the French press recently.

It involves a young woman, a large potted plant, and €150 that disappeared faster than you can say “correspondance avec la ligne 4”.

And no, she wasn’t selling illegal tulips on the platform or swinging her ficus at passengers.

She was... well, just carrying it. That’s it. That’s the whole crime. A plant. In the métro.

Honestly, I wish I were making this up.

So here’s the scene: bright Parisian afternoon, a nice leafy purchase from a low-cost plant shop (which, if you’ve ever tried to decorate a Paris flat on a budget, is basically gold dust).

The plan? Hop on the métro, get home, give the living room a tropical twist. What could go wrong?

Apparently… everything.

Somewhere between République and Gambetta, she ran into a RATP controller.

And not one of the chatty, forgiving types, oh no. This one was firmly in "le règlement, c’est le règlement" mode. No warning, no explanation. Just: “Papers, please.”

Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

You shall not pass (wiz ze plant)! My photo with a bit of retouching by Open AI.

You Shall Not Pass! (With a Houseplant)

See, when you enter the Paris métro, there are a few things you expect: delays, a violinist aggressively playing Despacito, someone falling asleep on your shoulder.

You do not expect to be fined more than a fare-dodger just for minding your own business with a pot of greenery.

And yet—bam!—€150.

Apparently, that plant was considered “incommodante”. I didn’t even know that word existed in real life for these kinds of living organisms.

The rule? Oh yes, there is a rule.

Something about objects being under 75 cm, unless they’re long but skinny — like skis — and held upright like a ceremonial spear. Officially, the rules say you can bring:

“Suitcases, bags or parcels under 75 cm in any direction;
long objects up to 2 metres, but no more than 20 cm wide or deep — and only if you hold them vertically;
and pushchairs, preferably folded.”

So basically: skis, yes. Plants, no. Children, ideally compacted.

And now you’re probably wondering, Why are you telling me this? I’m not planning on carrying jungle flora through Paris.

To which I say: That’s what she thought.

The truth is, the métro in Paris isn’t just about getting from A to B.

It’s a crash course in obscure laws, social etiquette, and occasionally, quiet panic.

And if you don’t want to end up like our unfortunate plant lady (who, by the way, paid on the spot, and yes, that means she can’t contest the fine anymore—fun fact!), you might want to keep reading.

Because as it turns out, there are more ways to get fined in the Paris métro than you might imagine.

Some of them make sense. Others… not so much.

The Ten Commandments of the Paris Métro (Carved in Concrete and Confusion)

Right. So you’ve made it past the turnstiles.

You’re clutching your valid ticket or smugly tapping your Navigo like a local.

You’ve remembered to stand on the right-hand side of the escalator (bravo, by the way).

You think the worst is behind you.

Ah. Sweet summer child.

Because here’s the thing: the métro is not just a transit system. It’s a maze of rules.

Some are posted on tiny faded stickers no one reads.

Some live only in the memories of RATP agents with a clipboard and a mission.

And some—well, some you only learn about after they cost you 150 euros and your will to live.

Let’s dive in. (Not literally. That’s probably forbidden too.)

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1. Thou Shalt Not Carry a Plant Taller Than Thyself

(For lo, even the meekest of ferns shall be deemed a menace to public order… especially if it exceeds 75 cm.)

You already know this one. It still haunts me.

If your object is taller than 75 cm, wider than 20 cm (wait, no—longer than 2 metres? unless it’s skinny?), and not held vertically, you’re done.

That lovely monstera you just bought to spruce up your Airbnb? It’s officially a threat to national security.

But skis? Totally fine. Apparently Parisians are more likely to hurt someone with a ficus than with two sharpened planks of fibreglass.

Go figure.

2. Thou Shalt Not Climb the Staircase Backwards

(He who goeth against the flow shall payeth €25, even if the stairway be empty and thy legs be weary.)

Okay, this one took me a while to believe.

A woman at Gare de Lyon got fined €25 for walking the wrong way up a staircase.

Not running. Not dancing. Just walking. Up the wrong way.

I mean… it was an empty stairwell. And apparently this rule dates back to 1968. (Yes. The year of the student protests. Maybe someone got very upset about a staircase that summer.)

Anyway, it’s still on the books. So yes: in Paris, even gravity has rules.

3. Thou Shalt Not Tempt the Doors After the Beep

(For the doors are sacred, and delaying their closing is an affront to the holy timetable.)

This one, I sort of understand. Sort of.

You know when the doors are closing and that little beeping sound starts, and someone always squeezes in at the last second like it’s Mission Impossible? Yeah. Don’t be that person.

Because in Paris, that little leap can cost you €150. For “obstacle to the proper functioning of the equipment”.

Honestly, it sounds like something out of Star Trek. But no, it’s just the métro.

Also, you can be fined the exact same amount for blocking people trying to get off the train before you get on. Which, to be fair, is probably justified.

There are few things more infuriating than being elbowed aside by someone trying to claim a seat before you've even stepped out.

4. Thou Shalt Not Linger After the Last Stop

(When the chariot ceaseth to move, thou must rise and depart — lest ye be fined for sloth.)

Let’s say you’re on the last stop of the line. You’ve had a long day. You’re half-asleep.

The train stops. But you don’t move.

Maybe you’re dreaming about cheese. Maybe you just didn’t hear the announcement.

Well, too bad. Because if you're still in the carriage at the terminus, you can get fined.

Apparently, it's a real rule: “remaining in the vehicle beyond its terminus” equals infraction.

Because Parisian trains are like dinner guests—you’re expected to leave on time.

5. Thou Shalt Not Film, Beg, Nor Scatter Leaflets (Even If Everyone Else Doth)

(These acts are forbidden in word, if not in deed — their punishment doeth depend on the mood of the controller.)

Now this is where things get fuzzy.

Technically, filming in the métro is prohibited without authorisation.

But everyone does it. I’ve seen TikToks of buskers, breakdancers, full-blown mini concerts between Bastille and Châtelet.

Same goes for people handing out flyers, or asking for money. Not officially allowed. But rarely enforced.

It’s like these rules are decorative. There in case of emergency. Or a slow day at the office.

6. Thou Shalt Not Smoke, Scoot, Nor Fare-Dodge (But Plants Remain the Greater Sin)

(For the punishment for fire and wheels is lighter than that of shrubbery — and this is a mystery unto all.)

Just in case you’re tempted to light up a cigarette on the platform (don’t), or zoom through the station on a scooter (please don’t), here’s a quick heads-up:

Smoking? €68.
Riding a scooter? €60.
Fare-dodging? €50.
But your peaceful pot plant? Still €150. Yep.

I don’t know what kind of existential crisis the métro had when they set these prices, but someone really hated plants that day.

7. Thou Shalt Validate Thy Ticket, Even If No Barrier Standeth Before Thee

(For invisible forces monitor thee, and the fine descendeth even on the honest soul who forgetteth to beep.)

You’d think this one is obvious, right? You’ve bought your ticket. You’re not sneaking in. You’re playing by the rules. Surely, you’re safe?

Ha. No.

Because here’s the twist: in some parts of the Paris transport system — especially trams, buses, and those mysterious open stations where the gates stand permanently open like some sort of commuter utopia — validation is still required.

No beep? No mercy.

And if a controller catches you holding a pristine, unused ticket that you simply forgot to shove into the slot… that’s still €50.

I remember once watching a poor tourist try to explain that their ticket was right there, untouched and clean.

The agent just blinked and said, “Pas validé.” Which, in French, roughly translates to “I do not care for your logic, monsieur.”

Lesson learned: if there’s no beep, it doesn’t count.

8. Thou Shalt Not Recline Thy Feet Upon the Seats of Thy Neighbours

(The benches are sacred and must not receive the soles of thine shoes, lest ye be smitten with a €60 fine.)

This one’s a classic. And honestly, I get it.

You put your feet up — maybe you're tired, maybe the train is empty, maybe you forgot you're not at home — and suddenly a fellow passenger gives you the look.

You know the one. The one that burns straight through your soul, questions your upbringing, and silently screams, “Et alors ? Tu te crois où, là ?”

And to be fair… they’re not wrong.

Feet on seats? Non merci. It’s just not done. No one wants to sit on the muddy echo of someone’s trainers from line 7.

So yes, in principle, I agree with the rule. It’s about basic courtesy — and shared space.

That said… €60 feels a bit steep.

Especially when it seems to be one of those rules that’s technically there, but not always applied.

Personally, I’ve never seen a RATP agent fine someone for it.

Maybe they have bigger fish to fry. Or maybe the judgmental stares from fellow commuters do the job well enough on their own.

Still, you’ve been warned. The métro is for sitting, not sprawling.

Unless you're a cat.

But only if you're in a basket — and if you're particularly fierce, you’ll need a muzzle. Yes, really.

Because in Paris, even cats are expected to follow the rules.

9. Thou Shalt Not Eat Nor Drink, Even a Crumb or Sip, Lest Ye Offend the Gods of Cleanliness

(For crumbs bring chaos, and croissants are considered contraband.)

I know what you’re thinking. But it’s just a pain au chocolat! And you’re right. It smells amazing. It’s warm. It’s flaky. It’s the only thing standing between you and complete emotional collapse before 9 a.m.

And yet… one bite, and you’re technically in violation.

Eating and drinking are officially forbidden on the métro. Not that it stops anyone.

I’ve seen people down a full kebab on the 13 line at 11 a.m.

I once witnessed a man pour red wine into a plastic cup while reciting Baudelaire.

But in theory, it’s not allowed.

Will you get fined for your innocent sip of water? Probably not.

But if it’s noisy, smelly, or spills — beware. Not just of the agents, but of Parisians.

You’ll feel their judgment from across the carriage. And honestly, that hurts more than the fine.

Oh, and just in case you were wondering: relieving oneself au naturel, métro edition? Also €150.

Yes — same price as the plant.

Which leads to a truly existential thought: in the eyes of Parisian transport law, a potted plant and someone turning a station wall into a personal convenience are apparently equal offences.

Make of that what you will.

10. Thou Shalt Give Thy Seat to the Elderly, the Pregnant, and the Weary, Lest Ye Be Judged in Silence Eternal

(For while no fine shall befall thee, the wrath of the carriage shall be great, and passive-aggression shall rain upon thee.)

Ah, the final commandment. The unwritten rule etched into every Parisian’s conscience.

This one doesn’t come with a fine. No ticket, no uniform, no clipboard.

Just the weight of society pressing silently against your shoulders until you can no longer pretend you don’t see the heavily pregnant woman standing directly in front of you.

Let’s just say you’ve seen it happen: someone stays seated a bit too long when an older lady walks in.

She doesn’t say a word.

She just stands there, gripping the pole like Gandalf preparing to pass judgment.

No staff needed — the silent pressure alone is enough to make the poor soul leap to their feet before she even clears her throat.

So yes — it’s not in the rulebook, but it’s the law.

And if you're not sure whether to stand? Just do it. It's better to look overly polite than to risk The Look.

Final Thoughts – What This Teaches Us About Parisian Transport (and Paris Itself)

So, what have we learned?

Well, for starters: Paris doesn’t mess around when it comes to its métro rules.

You might think it’s all baguettes, berets, and accordion music down there — but no.

The underground world has its own logic. A logic where blocking a door is a capital offence, a potted plant is a public nuisance, and walking up the wrong staircase is a historical sin.

And yet… somehow, it works.

It’s loud. It smells of metal and mystery (and sometimes of urine).

It’s never quite clean, never quite on time.

But it gets you where you need to go — assuming you’re not carrying anything that vaguely resembles home décor.

And yes, it can be intimidating. Especially if you're not from here.

The signs are all in French. The platforms are narrow. The escalators are fast.

And sometimes, the rules feel like they’ve been written by a surrealist poet on a Monday morning hangover.

But here’s the thing. Once you stop trying to make sense of it — once you accept the métro for what it is — it becomes almost charming. In its own chaotic, slightly threatening way.

Look, I’m not saying you should love it. But maybe just… don’t fight it.

Don’t bring a large aloe vera to République. Don’t try to beat the beeping doors. And whatever you do, don’t nap at the terminus. Just get on, hold tight, and enjoy the ride — or at least survive it with your wallet intact.

Oh, and if you do happen to buy a massive plant in Paris and need to get it home?

…Maybe walk.

The happy end of the story!

Although — and this part is real — the woman at the heart of this leafy fiasco did end up taking the métro home after all.

Yep. With the plant.

After being fined €150 for it.

The irony is chef’s kiss.

But the story didn’t end there.

On her friend’s advice, she posted about it on X (formerly Twitter), tagging the RATP and expressing her shock — not just at the fine, but at the fact that carrying a plant apparently costs more than fare-dodging, smoking, or putting your feet on the seat.

Her post went viral. Like, properly viral. Over half a million views. Thousands of likes. Trending for a full evening.

French media picked it up. People started tagging ministers. It was… a whole thing.

And in the end?

She won.

The RATP, after reviewing her case (and, let’s be honest, probably realising this was turning into a PR compost pile), agreed to refund her.

They said something about “context” and “public understanding” and so on. Which, frankly, is just another way of saying, “Oops.”

And the best part? She named the plant Prune. Because yes, in French, “une prune” is slang for… a fine.

So next time you see a giant leafy bird-of-paradise in someone’s Parisian living room, just remember: that plant may have started a revolution.

Had a laugh? Been fined for something equally absurd — in London, New York, Sydney, or who-knows-where?

Share your strangest transport stories in the comments — the more bizarre, the better. It might just make that poor houseplant incident feel slightly less alone in the world.