Thursday, October 8, 2009

Northern Line

I hate being on the tube at peak hours, hesitating as to jump on the train now or to wait for the next one that will be as packed - if not more. Tonight, I took a leap of faith and jumped on an overcrowded wagon. To my surprise, I was followed by a rather attractive man in his fifties, who closely escaped to be beheaded by the doors closing. I gasped and pushed him forward to avoid a drama. He thanked me and said "No senses, no pain", which was the beginning of a conversation on how insensible we were, that if I was a cow - I could detect a little sarcasm in his comment - I would not be allowed to travel like this. I wasn't surprised we shared the same thought; anyone sensible would agree on the inhumane conditions of travelling. The conversation drifted to the obvious question: "You are not English, aren't you?". To pretend I am English would mean to stay mute and miss on the nonsense of such rare moments, sounding like pirate recordings. A tube journey, at this very uncivilised time of the day, can be thoroughly enjoyed. Rescue a charming and witty stranger from the doors closing.

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