You know those days when you arrive at the
station in rush hour, and after a 20min train journey of being squashed like a
sardine (thanks FGW) the last thing you wanted was the same occurrence on the tube… this
comes to mind…..My new business plan “a tube chauffeur”….
…maybe not!
My tube journey experiences vary, I could
join the rest of the population and stand with a stern look on my face that
says “talk to me before my 3rd cup of coffee and I cannot be
responsible for my actions”. However, I opt for (most days) the “I’m away with
the fairies at the moment, but for you to call back…..”
One thing that really gets my goat on the
tube, is that in the smallest of spaces ( in the height of summer) people still
make the decision when they wake up in the morning to not wear deodorant! I am
some day’s physically in pain by the humming stench that people expel!
The
drunk Scotsman
Do not let the title fool you, he was not
Scottish, I think I am however 100% correct that he was drunk!
You are standing (again) opposite a girl
who just pushed past you to get on to a surprisingly empty carriage lobby (you
know to get that space by the end of a row of seats, where you can lean against
the glass and not touch any poles avoiding any germs or be accused of falling
on anyone as you are well braced against the door and wall of glass), earphones
in ears, happily nodding along to …..a Christmas song (in April)…..When the
Scotsman and a friend approach your carriage lobby.
The train pulls off, and despite having a
firm grip on the pole he falls onto you, hand at chest level to brace
himself……(forget about Tubecrush, I had my 156th boobcrush) I laugh it off and ironically revert to
“you scumbag, you maggot, you cheap, lousy… “ before he then pipes up
with what he thinks is an overly hilarious comment….”Excuse me, does this train
go to Scotland?” (You see the reference
now!) I reply politely, but with a hint of Sarcasm “Yes - it goes all the
way” expecting not to hear another word….
The train pulls off again and surprise
surprise I am yet again engulfed by yet another accidental fall followed up
with “I could have kissed you then!” I
decide at this point to pretend I did not hear, turning to the girl who stole
my space (yes stole) where we share
an awkward giggle. Thank god I can get off at the next stop! Does he not know he is in that crap age group
(40-odd) where he is too young to marry for money, and too old to marry for
the.. Sex Drive.
Belly
Bucket
Short and sweet – fat man gets on an already crowded train, squashes his tub of
lard into my side and armpit….. you shuffle over slightly to allow for a bit of
distance between you, he takes that to be “thanks, I’ll shuffle over as
well.” Attempt two: repeat process –
shuffle… “free of belly bucket” ….doh
– he shuffles again too, I start to think he can see this annoyed look on my
face and is deliberately winding me up! He finally gets the message when I
stick my elbow out to the side, and it somehow gets lost in his stomach, it
must have caused him a slight itch, as he swiftly turned around.
Monday
Morning Wind-up
Anyone else make the journey from
Paddington to Baker Street, Baker Street to Bond Street? …. Well you will be
aware of that junction when you arrive at Baker Street and make your dare devil
move to cross to the other side against any which way traffic in rush hour….you
will be lucky to leave with your life!
I don’t threat this journey, I do it every
day (I thank the moment the netball teacher took us over the process of “dodge,
Dodge! DODGE!”) Then from out of no-where I trip, it definitely was not my own
foot. Some lady (I can only assume it
was a lady as there were humps in the chest region despite the face saying
otherwise) manages to hook her foot between mine causing me to almost fall flat
on my face, stretching out that little further in a dramatic attempt to catch
my brand spanking new sun glasses! I turn around (as you do – which one of you was it…) I turn back
round regaining my posture, only to then feel a swift push between the shoulder
blades….I swing back round to find the same man/women glaring at me, and like
verbal diarrhoea she splutters out “I said sorry, do not glare at me”, at that
moment I was too shocked to say anything, for a split second I thought to
myself, did that actually just happened –
did someone trip me, THEN push me for not turning around and smiling adoringly at
her…..
She barges past me rambling on about how I didn’t
acknowledge her apology, (firstly I had ear phones in, so I apologise for not
hearing her ‘muttered under breath’ apology. (She continues… bla bla bla bla….)
I finally come to my senses and shout back at her “I am ever so sorry that my initial
reaction was not to smile and ask you out to dinner!”
I start laughing at her ridiculous audacity
to what she had just inflicted upon me, the cheek of it? The complete and utter
nerve to push me for not thanking her for tripping me!?
Still to this moment I am in shock, that is
not the English way!!!
