On the tubes in London (underground trains) that zoom through the city, is where you will be able to sit beside people that you would otherwise never even dream of going near! I feel that the fastest way to experience life is to get on the tube (preferably in London, the truly global city of the world) where you will, in no time, expose yourself to a massive variety of languages that you would have otherwise never heard in person, expose yourself to an insanely overwhelming variety of people, hairstyles, shoes, clothing, weird makeup, and foul language of every tongue!
One day in particular, I was on my way to Knightsbridge, I walked into the tube and sat opposite of your typical, classic 100% English countryside-bred British lady; she had a grey head, a blue scarf, grey shoes to match her newly- trimmed hair, and was reading the newspaper with a grin on her face. Now, it’s very rare to see anyone in London with a grin on their face! No one will ever smile at you in London, unless they are insane. And I am not sure which is worse: to never be smiled at, or to be smiled at by an insane British person!
And so the classic, typical lady with a blue scarf and grey shoes to match her grey hair sat there with her insane grin on her face, reading her grey paper (which also matched her hair). The tube came to a brief halt and in strolled a rockstar! And this guy was the closest thing to a rockstar that I am ever going to see in my life (I think). He instantly added a sparkle to the air and charmed me as he strode in and sat down right beside the typical elderly English countryside lady! His hair was strikingly blonde, and shot out in all directions, reaching about 12 inches from their point of growth in his head! The hair was blonde in a different way, it was distinctively yellow, sunny-yellow, which actually did make him look like the sun itself! He wore tight, torn, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket. Black leather spiked with metal teeth adorned his wrists and two or three silver rings wrapped his delicately pink, soft, washed fingers with manicured fingernails! This boy, to me, was two persons in one! He wrapped himself in something that was not himself, and his soft, feminine, pretty facial features fought the torn, rugged screams of his clothing and his wild hair. I looked at his face while he was looking down at the pages of the book he was reading. His face was so angelic, I felt compelled to reach out and touch it (of course, I didn’t do as I imagined I was doing, that would be a different story) and I had never seen such clear, smooth skin, in all of London! This boy looked as though he had been protected from the world, as if he was only now born, and yet, he presented himself to be an advocate of Satan!
He looked down, reading his book. I think he felt me watching him, and this made him shrink in his seat, as if he’d never been observed by a woman before, as if he’d never even been given notice by a woman before! Had he ever made love to a woman before...? I think I wanted to find out... this man intrigued me so! I wonder how old he was; nineteen/ twenty? Twenty-two perhaps? Or maybe he just looked very young.
The tube made its stop at Piccadilly Circus, a few stations away from where I would be getting off. In came a very severe businessman in a suit and tie which made him look stuffy and harassed. His hair was brown, very short, and his ears were very clean! In fact, I think his ears were too clean, they were so clean that they had turned a sore red! His features were pitiful in the sense that he appeared to be an underdog in his workplace, the kind picked on by all his colleagues and bullied back in high school. I felt sorry for the man, and felt as though I wanted to pat him on the back and tell him “It’s going to be okay.”
The businessman sat there, his knees buckled together, and he held his expensive briefcase with both of his hands, with all his ten fingers, dangling the thing on his knees. I looked at him, and he looked at me. I think he was used to looking at people, and he didn’t look shy, but he still looked pitiful. I looked down for a while, and then I looked back up at him. I looked at all three of the characters sitting in front of me.
The businessman in the pink tie was stealing words from the paper in the rockstar’s book; he was reading the rocker’s book, from sideward glances.
The rocker was still hiding under his hair, afraid to look into my eyes, clinging onto his weathered book as if it was a shield and the lady with grey hair and grey shoes still had the same grin on her face, and had flipped through a few pages of her paper. She had a basket beside her.
I wanted to smile at the lady, I wanted the rocker to follow me out of the train and come home with me, and I wanted to wring the businessman’s ears to see how much redder they could get!
These are a few of my moments, on the London tube.
Copyright © 2011 C. JoyBell C. All rights reserved.