Half eight on a Thursday morning, it's primo commuter time and the underground is packed as ever. I've already had warning that there's overground issues which thankfully never materialised and now even the tube seems to be running without issue. It's a regular, busy but relatively stress free morning of travel. I've had the idiot on the train who seems to think he needs a seat and a half and I'll make do with what's left but that was easily remedied by the application of stubbornness and fidgeting... Mrs P 1 : Train Numpties 0!
Anyway, the Bakerloo line is jumping as ever, but I find a handy spot near where "my" carriage pulls in and relax into the music pulsing relaxingly down my headphones. The tube train pulls in, the carriage is quiet with plenty of seats for the baying hoards waiting to board. The tube slows, then stops and the doors slide smoothly open triggering the slow movement forward of the one guy in front of me. Swiftly followed by the decision by him to stop dead despite the moving traffic behind him which pushes me into him.
Ah but surely there's some sterling reason for his cessation of movement. There must be someone disembarking unexpectedly and he's stopped to ensure their ease of departure like a gentleman? No? Well maybe someone crossed in front of him pushing to get to the seats and it's forced his absence of movement? No again? Okay, there must be something... He just decided that was where he wanted to stand ignoring the fact that there's a large amount of people behind him and he's blocked the passage? Yes? Really?!
Not only does this majestic absence of common sense fill me with disillusionment of the small fraction of intelligence I assumptively gift my fellow commuters with but he goes so far as to turn round and have a go at me for knocking into him! Funnily enough that's what happens when you stall natural flow patterns, they crash into each other!!!
He first starts berating me for knocking into him, really not my choice, not like he was good looking or anything but who am I to hold back thirty odd stressy commuters? Then I get informed I should have gone around him, which seeing as people were boarding wherever there was a gap was pretty unlikely. Finally I get past him and he spends the next ten minutes or so glowering at me futilely as I studiously ignore the odious little twit. So next time I think I need to wear not only boots that are made for walking, but ones that are perfectly equipt for imbedding into morons backsides too! Plan!
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