If any of you work in London then you’ll be more than familiar with the necessary evil that is the Tube network. Don’t get me wrong, I’d prefer to use an underground train than be sat next a piss-drenched OAP making the most of their free-pass on the bus, but it’s still a less than salubrious method of getting round the city.
In an ideal world it’d be limo’s all the way, but until someone tries to build on my recently acquired plot of land on the moon, or that fucking Nigerian priest sends the cheque he promised me, I can’t afford that.
Being British there are certain elements of basic etiquette that are generally followed on the Tube, things like apologising profusely if someone barges into you and avoiding eye contact at all times, but due to the increasing number of tourists and chavs it has become necessary to audibly articulate this etiquette to the mases at every opportunity. Hence the “Please allow people off the train before boarding” announcements.
So listen, and get the fuck out of the way when I try and get off the tube. OK? It is particularly bad during rush hour as the vultures in suits descend on a slowing train and try to align themselves with an opening door much like hungry chicks around a regurgitating albatross. If they don’t get out of the way I find a loud scream or Tarzan-like call creates a gap for me, particularly if the women in the carriage join in with the screaming.
Unfortunately getting on and off the Tube isn’t the end of the fun and games, oh no.
Once you’ve de-tubed – as our American friends would call it – you’ve then got to ascend the escalator. Easy if you’re not in a hurry. But you’ll inevitably be stuck behind an illiterate iPod wearing arsehole who is stood on the left if you’re late for a very important meeting.
Having finally overcome the gannets at the tube door, clambered past the immovable nodding deaf mutes on the escalator, and made your way to the exit barrier, it is a nailed on certainty that you’ll be at the same barrier chosen by amnesiac Annie. Of course, she won’t realise she needs her ticket till she’s actually stood at the barrier, and then it will be a few seconds before she starts looking for it. This can take anything from 10 seconds to 2 years depending on the importance of the meeting you’re late for.
All that said, it’s still better than being sat with pissy-pants on the bus.
{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
I know exactly what you mean here. I would just like to add -
People who congregate at the top of the fucking stairs.
People who stop on the fucking stairs.
People who do not move down into the fucking carriage, so it gets overcrowded near the doors.
Men who fucking leer.
Men who rub their fucking erections against your arse.
Grrr
I’m with you on most of that NF – but erections have never been a problem for me on the tube. Unless I’m forced into remaining seated and missing my stop of course.
and of course the old ” can you move down please ” , when there is literally nowehere to move down to . twats.
I find the best way to get about on the tube is not to wash for a few days beforehand, usually guarantees everyone else allows you an above-average amount of personal space.
And mental people always seem to get a seat as well. Usually next to me.
ah, the joys of provincial living. the only time i use the tube is on visits to london. i like to carry three or four enormous bags, stand in the middle on the escalators, stand at the top of the stairs reading my map, then, having got on the train while everyone else is getting off, refuse to move an inch even though bag #3 is blocking the doors.
happy days.
Mighty Wright – I’m sure you point that out quite politely?
Roofus – the mentalists who look like they’re trying to bite their own ear are the worst.
Surly Girl – If you were German, I’d consider you the antichrist.
danke schon.
mr angry – i find non verbal communication usually works best in these circumstances….
Buses? Tubes? Ugh! Smelly things I’m told. Never touch ‘em meself.
all the sub ways of the world are basically the same ….. shit. but boring arses who whitter on to their moranic matesmay speak different language and yet die they will at my hands if i hear one more story about emily in hr.
some times the annoncemrnts are hilarious. but other times the trains are lethal with overcrowding (like you can get closer to a fucking randomer on a train than in a fucking night club logic like hell there is not). I hate the trains as they are stinky but i have an internal freak magnetic as they home in on me and am always stuck beside a little physcotic bastard. last time was made to see weridos pictures of his trip to south east asia on his lap top … there was no escape possible!
I hate it when old women complain about my erection rubbing against their arse. But enough about my country walks, the tube is a good breeding ground for aggression I find.
Karilyn – we must have matching freak magnets. Just shout, “Porn! Porn! He’s got Porn!” next time.
RD – They should’ve been grateful for what they got.