Just when I thought I could have a nice relaxing journey, all my wishes were flushed down the toilet.
New commuter on my train and he's driving me absolutely mad. Actually he is not that new, but I just couldn't be bothered to observe him.
Arrived later than yesterday to my usual train, so I was forced to be sociable and sit on table seat. Sharing the table with Subject J, for starters, all his belongings were spreaded around the table. Well, doesn't matter, I don't really use the table that much.
Once accommodated, I carried out my usual tasks of putting away all my tickets, preparing my iPod, checking trending topics on Twitter and finally yoghurt time while reviewing the interesting articles of the day in Metro.
Very rightfully, Subject J decided that it was also time for his breakfast so proceeded to do so. He took out from his Holland & Barrett paper bag a mini lunch box with a fork and unveiled the content of it. A solid and liquid vanilla ice cream substance was revealed under the black lid. The disturbing part of the story was not the mysterious edible matter, but the action of the subject J. As if there was no tomorrow, he started to eat that yellowish thing with a fork, mannerless, spattering me with little drops of the thing, to my big disgust.
After overcoming the increasing anger for that carelessly way of munching, the tension increased in the room after Subject J decided that his 7:35 train was the perfect place to have a telephone conversation with who knows whom.
'Hello!!!' - in a very loud and annoying pitch voice disrupted our very pleasant morning silence. Then the conversation, carried out in an unidentifiable, was a completely unintelligible speech that gave me instant head ache and grumpiness. I am never fussed about noise on trains, but after some loud Graham Coxon to mitigate the voice and some even louder Death From Above to disguise the noise I decided that the situation was getting quite complicated.
Angrily, I turned off my iPod, put it inside my bag, and looked furiously towards the walls of the carriage, to show that I was looking at the sign of not speaking or the phone or make noise, 'this is a quiet carriage, please respect the other passengers'. Said subtle action did not have any effect on subject J, as he continued his loud conversation.
And then it is when it hit me. This subject was the same person that has daily endless chatting on the phone but I never reach (or can't be bother) to find out who he is.
Just when I was about to said very politely that he was being highly disturbing, nature exerted its power, weakening the reception on his phone and forcing him to hang up.
At that precise moment, is when I took I my new book from my bag and I opened it on the first page, while trying to remember the plot relating it to the title.
'Beep beeeeep beep beep' - The sound of Blackberry keys being pressed in order to make a call.
It was happening. Subject J was dialling again. Reception recovered, and again, that loud and painful 'Hello!!!!'.
Like in an edited mobile telephone company commercial, same scene happen again and again, during the lapse of 10 minutes: loss of reception, peace for a minute, beep beeep beep, Hello!!
and over again.
Unfortunately, my face is uncontrollably expressive, and it directly related my feeling to my facial gestures. After 5 of those cycles of pain, my face most probably showed a mixture of anger and violence that, not even by looking deep in his eyes was able to mitigate the situation. Probably he did not care at all.
After minutes of failed facial persuation, again, unconsciously, my hand grabbed my ticket wallet and furiously hit the table, emitting an angry and dry sound of disagreement.
And then is when it all stopped. My hopeless signed finally bear fruits and the mobile was put away.
Proud of my victory, the feeling of success lasted less than two minutes. It was 8:17 and therefore, time for running after the bus.
There he was by the door. Subject I in his usual position, playing with his Nintendo DS, and facing the inclement weather. There he was, what a maverik! No coat, no jacket.
For the record and your interest, I just raced Subject G for a race of death down the stairs. I did not only win, but also managed to stop my impossible 8:18 bus with a gentle hand gesture while crossing the street even though it had already departed from the stop.
The driver, Mr T's skinny brother with less golden chain, and called Subject K for the sake of the privacy here, provided me with a terrible disapproval face by the time I was showing him my ticket. He seems to be indeed a very serious person, not very talkative and certainly not very friendly. Nevertheless, he waved me with a friendly 'Thanks' by the time I reached work.
I don't get it.
Anyways. Racing during commuting is part of my Social Experiments. But that's another story.