A WEEK ON THE TUBE: TUESDAY

LADY IN ALL PINK

I find that at least once a day I come across a one-colour dresser and on this day it was hot pink. This lady is worth mentioning because of her sheer dedication to the sport. Pink shoes with pink soles. Pink socks, pink trousers. I can only suspect her underwear was uniform. Pink undershirt and pink button down (open). Pink beaded bracelet and pink necklace that sparkled even more shades of pink. Pink earrings. Pink lipstick, blush and eye shadow, and a wide-brimmed completely pink hat. Her purse was straw… But had a pink ribbon tied around it.
I couldn’t pinpoint the emotion looking at her evoked. I think it was hunger?
GUY WITH BOOM-BOX: PARTY-STARTER, FIRE-STARTER
Our tube was waiting an unusually long time to leave the platform (“long time” in London just means 6-8 seconds longer than usual), and as we sat dormant we could hear him coming. The reggae techno swirl of chaos and tin drum got louder and louder until a chap, high as a kite and considerably aged due to a couple decades of crack-use, bounced onto our crowded carriage. He was carrying a boom box straight outta 1989, which frankly impressed me considering how frail he looked. His smile was the biggest I’ve ever seen, and his head bobbed along to the beat as he took turns making eye contact and sharing his expectant look of glee with each passenger. Slowly, we all started giggling and bobbing along with him, most of us voluntarily or not tapping our feet along with the deafening thud. A fellow foot-tapper happened to be a divinely gorgeous and quite manly looking man who I seemed to telepathically bond with. Through eye contact alone we chuckled together over the excitement of our journey, slash fell in love a bit.
But we’re British. And statistically there was bound to be a good few of us who would be stick-in-the-muds. The task fell to a salt of the earth northern man with a silver moustache that, given a good comb through, would have been a story in an of itself on this blog. He pushed through the crowds to yell over the beat at the party guy, “oy! Yer can’t do that on ‘ere! Shut it off!”
And a fuse was lit. Party guy flipped his lid. He was so angry. His screaming far outweighed the loud tinny beat, and he threw his body here there and everywhere amid cries of “I’ll kill ya!”
This display made my handsome co-passenger snicker even more, which I suddenly found very unattractive, and almost as quickly as our affair had begun, it was over.
Anyway the screaming escalated over the course of about 5 stops before fists flew and I decided it was probably time to re-route myself. Which was, as I’m sure you’ll all agree, a wise decision. Just a couple of weeks ago someone was stabbed on the tube for some reason or another. So. Safety first, and knock on wood etc.
STRANGERS PLAY FOOTSIE
… Although one of them was not conscious. I was sitting opposite a girl who had clearly had a taxing day and was passed out and slumped in her chair. It was restless sleep and she jolted every few seconds. A stranger got on the tube well into her REM cycle. He spotted her vulnerability and plopped down next to her, careful not to disturb her spread-out figure. I was on to him. I just knew it was a matter of minutes- nay, seconds as it turned out! The guy slipped off his flip flop and nestled his foot into her ankle, and I watched on in horror as her sub-conscious reached out to reality and her leg reciprocated his little intimate movements. After blinking in disbelief for a minute or so (I know, I know, too long to wait Holls), I cleared my throat and shot his a disapproving look. He responded with a look that feigned innocence and surprise, which I wasn’t buying so I said simply, “ok, come on, really.” So he stopped and shamefully re-shoed himself, got up and slunk off. She was none-the-wiser.
MAN WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO
Just kidding. It was actually a tattoo of his. own. face. How could I know it was his own face, you say? Because the tattoo had a tattoo of its own face. It was a face within a face. I know what you’re thinking- “Proof! Where’s the snap?!” Your guess is as good as mine, kids. On my list of life-regrets which I’ll instruct my grandchildren to read at my graveside, not getting a picture of this will be number 2, second only to not seeing Step Up 3 in 3d in theaters. Incidentally, this guy had omitted actual sunglasses for 3d glasses. We came full circle with this one!
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