A couple of Tube travesties for you. One I witnessed first hand and the other a friend of mine was kind enough to share with me.
I was standing with my back to the open widow at the end of a tediously overcrowded Tube train, feeling both happy and sad. Sad because I felt guilty that a fellow, but shorter, commuter had their face jammed in my armpit ( I was recently showered but the Tube was hotter than the paste in a McDonald’s apple pie, so my armpit at best would have been fresh but moist) and happy because I didn’t have my face jammed in anyone’s armpit.
The train pulled into the station and the doors opened on my right hand side. Just as the doors were about to close, a guy with his face comfortably pressed against the door window on the opposite side of the carriage realised it was his stop and suddenly decided to sprint through the treacle of passengers.
As he got to the door, he hooked his foot through the handle of someone’s handbag sending himself and the entire contents of the bag scattering across the platform.
Whilst he was still lying face down, and as the doors began to close, a women jumped off the train like a gazelle, half-screaming:
“That’s my stuff!”
The Invisible Man
A friend of mine was on a Tube train in morning rush hour that he described as “beyond packed”. You know the ones that when you eventually get off you pop out of the door like a cork from a cheap bottle of Shame-pag-knee, half expecting to see Japanese men in uniforms and white gloves.
As the doors started beeping, a bloke realised it was his stop and exploded out of his seat like the Tsar Bomba and Jonah Lomu-ed through the sardine-ing commuters. My mate feared lives would be lost as people were cast asunder as he parted them like the Red Sea.
He arrived at the doors just in time to smash his face on them as they closed and, as the train began pulling away and he began making his way back to his seat, from somewhere on the carriage a disembodied voice shouted:
“It’s alright mate, I don’t think anyone noticed!”