So it’s Wednesday night and I’m on my way home from work around 7ish. I get down to the tube which, thankfully, since it’s a little later; the commuter crowd has cleared out a bit. Yeah! I might actually not have to stand face to face with a stranger for my 8 minute ride. FYI…the concept of personal space doesn’t exist so much around here.
Anyway, I’m standing on the platform and there is a guy standing a few feet off to my right…we’ll call him Nice Guy. Then there is a guy standing a bit behind him and a little more to the right…we’ll call him Crazy Guy.
I think you might see where this is going…
The train pulls up and when it stops, the door is a bit to my right – almost in front of Nice Guy. The train stops and the door slides open and Nice Guy steps back a little and motions me to go in front of him.
I’m just going to interject here and say that there is a very easy way to tell the Londoners from the tourists…Londoners are the nice ones. A London guy, for the most part will always hold the door, let women in front of them, and give up their seats on a train for us ladies…it’s really rather sweet! And truth be told – I really rather like it!
So back on track…no pun intended….the doors open and Nice Guy motions to me. Then, out of no where, Crazy Guy swings around Nice Guy and cuts in front of me and hurls his crazy self into the train. Nice Guy looks at me and I look at him and just smile, he smiles and shrugs, then we both get on the train.
So we are in the back of the train and on either side of the door, there is a little upholstered strip that you can kind of lean up against, not a seat or anything, kind of just a head rest, but for your bum. I lean up against the one immediately inside the door, Nice Guy takes up residence next to me – on my left side now. Crazy Guy has moved further in the train about 3 ft from the both of us and is glaring at Nice Guy…and a little at me, too, but more at Nice Guy.
Hmmmm…This might not be good.
I take out my newspaper and start to read….well, start to pretend to read. Riding on the tube is very much like driving on the highway. You dust look straight ahead and don’t make eye contact with the other travellers.
The doors close and off we go…Crazy Guy is still staring his crazy stare in our direction.
“Why did you do that?!?!” Yells Crazy Guy.
Well, thanks Crazy Guy, now everyone in the train is looking our way!
“Huh?” Nice Guy says, “I was just letting her in front of me.”
Hey Nice Guy – what happened to the chivalry? Don’t be bringing me into this!! I would have been fine to hop on the train after you.
My eyes peep up over the top of the newspaper.
Crazy Guy again, not appeased, “QUIT FOLLOWING ME!!”
No one moves…no one breathes….we are all looking at our papers…no one is reading, but we are all in the ‘I could be reading, but I would rather see how this plays out’ pose.
To his credit, Nice Guy totally ignores Crazy Guy.
“You people have to quit following me!!!” Crazy Guy is screaming again!!
To honest, he has thrown in some…um…colourful…words here and there randomly. However, I don’t know the exact audience that is reading this, so I will keep it to the PG version.
“Man, why are you following me?!?!”
“You need to quit following me!?!?!?”
“Its been like this since 1960!!”
Wait…what….Crazy Guy is only like in his 30s! He wasn’t around in 1960!
“1960!!”
“1960, man, it’s all about 1960!!”
“Next stop, Oxford Circus” comes the driver’s announcement.
Well, now I have a decision to make…Hop off here and skip back one car? Then again, maybe Crazy Guy will hop off…really – that would be better. If he thinks we’re following him, surely hopping off would be his logical move.
The doors open and no one – I mean no one moves a muscle!
Some girl hops through the door.
“Elephants and 1960! It’s all the same to you people!”
The girl hops back off…
There is a woman who has been standing across from me the whole time and we have occasionally looked at one another and smiled a bit. She has a ‘fright or flight’ look on her now and keeps looking at the door.
Too late! The doors close and we’re off again.
“Elephants!! You need to quit following me!!”
Crazy Guy is now shaking his head vigorously as if he has in fact figured the conspiracy out.
“No one before 1959 has this trouble!! I tell you all – its all began since 1960!!”
Wow – I had no idea I would get this kind of entertainment on the way home!!
“Next stop, Bond Street” comes the driver’s announcement.
Here we go again….stay or go!?!?
One guy that is sitting about 2 seat in from where I am standing gets off, but instead of walking past me, he walks the length of the train the other way so he doesn’t have to walk past out little situation…wimp.
The guy that was standing by Crazy Guy in the same little bum rest seat that I am in, but on the other side of the door gets off.
What?!?! I see out of the corner of my eye, Nice Guy takes the place of the guy that just hopped off…he has actually moved closer to Crazy Guy…now whose crazier?!!? Not a smart move Nice Guy!!
The doors close and we’re off again.
“Red shoes!”
“That’s how I know you all, man!! The red shoes!”
Nice Guy has on Brown loafers….
“You gotta be smarter than that if you’re going to follow me man!! I know the shoes!!”
“Next stop, Marble Arch” comes the driver’s announcement.
We stop and the doors open and fright or flight lady across from me bolts off the train like its on fire!
“You just gotta leave it alone, man!”
“Forget 1960, man!!”
And with those parting words, Crazy Guy lunges for the door as they start to close! He just barely makes it through the doors as they close. Now he has stopped and turned back to the train as we pull away.
“Follow me now with your red shoes!!!!” He screams this so loudly, we can hear him over the roar of the train as we pull away.
There is a collective sigh and snicker throughout the train. Everyone lowers their unread papers and we all kind of look around at each other.
Nice Guy looks at me and sort of does the smile/shrug thing again.
I couldn’t help myself…”I’ve always thought 1962 was the year they started following us, not 1960.”
Without missing a beat, Nice Guy, completely deadpan, replies, “No, it’s 1960. But really, it’s the red shoes that give me away every time. I suppose I should change to blue.”
I love the English sense of humor!!
“Next stop, Lancaster Gate” comes the driver’s announcement.
Oh – that’s me!!
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