Monday Triumph

It was 6.30pm on a typical Monday evening and I was taking the tube home. Normally I would not dare to attempt an underground journey at this time of the day, but as I had just had a lovely walk across the town, and my presence had been accompanied by a very rare phenomenon of sunshine and an old favourite playlist of mine, I had decided not to care about the flesh melting swelter and chaos of the rush hour. Standing on the platform, I had to wait for four Northbound Victoria line trains to pass until I was able to actually fit myself in the carriage. This however did not bother me since I was not in a rush anywhere. I had my music, it was my day off, and nothing was going to ruin my spirit. So I took a deep breath, squeezed myself through the edge of the train to the 20cmx10cm oval space in front of the doors, grabbed a hold of one of the blue poles and finally I was on the move. 

As a Londoner one learns very quickly how to stand in crowded trains without actually touching anyone, and so had I. Everything was going as expected, until suddenly I felt a growing sensation of unease. I looked to my left and sure enough, there they were: the most piercing pair of eyes I have ever met staring at me. Fed up to her ears, this fifty somewhat lady standing next to me had apparently decided I was the root of all discomfort in her tube journey and boy was she going to let me feel it. Never had I ever experienced such a hostile stare. It was as if she was shredding my face into mince with her black eyes. I stood there in amazement. I was taking up a ridiculously small space, I had not let out a quiet one, nor was my music loud enough for her to hear it. Why wouldn’t she turn her face elsewhere? 

After a few moments of this bizarre staring competition, I couldn't help but sincerely ask her what's the problem. She shook her head at me in most obvious disgust, as if I should have known what horror I have caused standing next to her, and continued to stare at me. At this point I started to feel a tickling sensation in the pit of my belly. The lady’s reactions were so ludicrously dramatic I was about to burst out laughing! But I was not going to give her that, so with the most innocent face I could possibly produce I looked even deeper into her eyes and asked, "Why are you staring at me like that?" Either she felt a nudge in the tiny black quivering piece of muscle that once used to be her heart, or her gigantic ego realised I was not going to apologise for my existence, and behold- she looked away! In complete triumph I faced the other way and beamed the most victorious smile Victoria line has ever witnessed! Only to see fifty other miserable faces in front of me. London, you are a cunt of a city, yet you continue to amuse me.