Assuming
appropriate stance in preparation for the systematic halt - a stiff upright
lunge, right foot forward, knee slightly bent while the left foot acts as an
awkward horizontal ballast, outstretched behind. One victorious hand embraces
the railing above at a height only comfortable for persons of 5'11" and
arms that are not heavily clad with constricting, over ground, city clothing.
Assess finger spacing. Too far a spread may result in the inappropriate grazing
of a neighbouring finger, sharing the same railing. A grasp too condensed leaves little
opportunity for ventilation. An unventilated palm is a clammy palm with reduced
friction, resulting in slipping and the inappropriate grazing of a neighbouring finger. Neck crooked towards the floor; nose, a convenient distance
from armpit to disguisedly assure, or perhaps not, the effectiveness of the
24hr deodorant. Eyes not directed at the floor, despite presumed etiquette.
Nowhere else can one experience more unavoidable eye contact, physical contact,
and nasal encounters with a spectrum of levels of personal hygiene, than in a
London underground tube carriage.
Momentum
seizes as expected, as if depressed and burdened. Its motion, saturated with
lethargy, convulsing through its temporary captives, triggering a desperate
fleeing where every man and his briefcase is for himself. All basic manners are
null and void and that tiny orange stub of card becomes the most valuable
possession on his being. It is a weapon, a defence and right of
way. The next swarm burrows in.
One
sneaky character nestles in far nearer than an acceptable distance. She too
assumes the stance and embraces the rail, however, makes a multitude of
mistakes. Mine is the neighbouring finger she inappropriately grazes and due to her imbalanced posture, the
laboured onset of movement looks as if it comes as a surprise to her. Her
satchel topples onto my foot. The satchel containing the most recent,
overpriced Apple Mac with the largest screen, the fastest processor and biggest
hard drive, making it capable of things only its creator could initiate… which
is used only for emailing and word processing. Mine came with an eight percent
discount and everyone uses one nowadays. A tinny two syllables are uttered from
the direction of her head, however uncoupled with any suggestive body language
or eye contact. “Sorry.” Naturally, I pretend not to hear. My gaze is snatched
from the black forty mile per hour stone wall outside, to the label that pokes
from the collar of her blazer, to the staggeringly raised mole that sits beside
it, then to the wisp of hair that she failed to incorporate into her tight
up-do this morning. The bobby pins are too fine for her dense locks. One more
person knows that the distressed, grey, polyester and nylon blend blazer she
owns is a Next size eight. Wash at thirty degrees and do not tumble dry. Someone
should tell her. Her Starbucks tall skinny vanilla latte sloshes inside the
cardboard cup. I have very little trust in the liquid remaining there. She
becomes increasingly fidgety and restless as if the time spent travelling
towards her commercially sculpted, glass office building, is a waste. She
changes her grip from the rail above, to hooking her elbow around the vertical
one, freeing her hand to fumble in her pockets. The first to emerge is the
orange stub, then a phone and a packet of cigarettes, the second part to
breakfast. Moving closer to the doors in anticipation, she leaves behind in her
place, a strong scent of bitter perfume and coffee. I can taste it, along with
her arrogance. Before the doors have opened completely she has scurried into
the outside masses. She dissolves into just another androgynous underground
rat, suited in a monochrome mid tone.
