Tube Life

Tube Life

The mechanical stairs take me down to the belly of the earth.

I mentally switch off as I glide down the vertiginous slope,

The 180 degree angle of descent does not phase me.

Instead, I rummage through my pockets for that magic ‘open sesame’ card.

Time is of the essence.  The Tube waits for no man.

There is a train arriving in two minutes, so says the neon sign above me.

As I wait in the fifth row of people, I see no one, too engrossed in my copy of the Metro;

Just shapeless, colourless, sexless human beings on their way to somewhere.

I automatically step into the carriage and move right in as instructed by the Voice,

Until I am standing buttock to buttock, armpit to armpit with a bunch of strangers

The tube is not for the shy or the reserved at peak hour.

The smells of perfume, coffee, curry and compounded sweat violently clush.

It is best not to think of smells and such,
As I swing like a monkey hanging onto the railing each time the train sharply breaks at a station stop.

There is not an inch of space to open my Metro, so I close my eyes and listen to my ipod.

The Tube is bearable only with something to read, listen to or both.

Ten minutes later there is a seat which a gentleman kindly offers.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I quickly accept to rest my weary feet.

I examine said gentleman covertly from behind my Metro news and find him very appealing indeed.

Perhaps he could be my Tube romance, if I catch the tube at the same time every day,

For we know the Tube makes creatures of habit of us all.

Oblivious to her surroundings, the passenger to my right transforms her haggard face with make-up.

My reverie is disturbed by the passenger to my left.

As he unashamedly leans over to read my Metro, his breakfast breath makes me want to gag.

Instead, I ponder his disrespect for the Rules of the Underground.

On the Tube, you may look up for divine intervention, down in contemplation but never sideways!

When I look up, my Tube romance is gone.

‘This station is Liverpool Street.  Mind the gap!’ says the Voice.

I think to myself, a few more stops to go and glance at my watch only to realise

S**t! S**t! F***k! I am going to be late! 

What?  Don’t be so shocked! I learned to swear on the Tube.

I should have run down the escalator to gain a minute or two, as I always do.

All the swearing in the world, to the bemusement of my fellow passengers, cannot help me now.

On the Tube, time waits for no man but each journey’s experience is soon forgotten.

I will be on it again tonight and tomorrow and the day after.

Some passenger or a driver with a sense of humour will make me smile once in the hell hole.

9 January 2013