States of water

Two weeks in, and I am already more than used to the new schedule, new streets and new air. New pavement. In fact, so new I am still hesitant on setting a foot in them. The polished stone floors from the famous square nearby are borderline negligent of Health and Safety issues. But I just face it as a daily challenge of not falling on my face every morning. Perhaps it is a signal for me to resole my beloved boots.

The streaky purple and yellow sky of my first week abandoned its position, turning pitch dark until I reach Waterloo. Now the sky is turning grey-ish blue. My coat is still damp from the drops of rain that fell while crossing the slippery square. Rain that, in fact, felt heavier than normal. Not heavy in amount, but in weight. Heavy rain, often sign of some imminent weather event.

Minutes after boarding my train, I spot a few fellow commuters, rushing to grab their smart phone in order to capture the white landscape with their Instagrams and share it with boss, friends and partner. And so do I. And it is that while approaching those London affluent suburbs, nowhere near my first stop, I realise that the heavy water at around 4 degrees C, where it is in its higher density (hence the 'heavy' feeling), is now experimenting the expected density drop after the maximum peak of density, so while approaching the 0 degree figure, the plain old water is turning into fluffy opaque flakes.

It is snowing.

And as we passed the suburbs and the limits of Greater London, the white blanket is getting thicker and brighter, partly because the sun finally rose but it is hiding behind the greedy clouds. The train commenced emitting quite unusual scratching noises, and a strange glow flashes the trains and platforms as the train moves forward. It feels as though we were travelling in a giant limousine crossing Fifth Avenue in NY, followed by very persistent paparazzi flashing their camera. But is it the glow of the sparks. It is the sparks created by the friction between the train and the icy steel rails. Flashing lights.

There is barely a centimetre of snow, it is not even Winter yet.

But I am stuck somewhere near West Byfleet, at least 50 minutes late from the first stop.

I am still hopeful.

Until all my batteries die.

But I am back.

And I will have a lot of stories.

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Purchase Requisition

Think about it. I could be making up the numbers or the statistics, but I won't. According to Wikipedia, glorious source of uncontrolled information, and probably the most unreliable source (but the easiest and most satisfying), Waterloo Station had a flow of entries and exits of around 86.5 millions of people in 2009-2010. Divided into the days of the year and considering it is not accurate at all, we could say that 236.000 persons enter and exit the station every day, and maybe just 150.000 on peak time.

Now let's think about the other big hubs of the city: Victoria, Euston, King's Cross, Liverpool Street, London Bridge, Baker Street, Paddington, (hey, I am almost naming them all !!), unforgettably gigantic Clapham Junction. I am probably not considering a lot more, but let's just get this 9 for the sake of the argument. 9 times 150.000. That makes it approximately 1.35 million interchanging, exiting or entering one of the main hubs of the City. How many viewers did the Brits have this past february on TV? Around 6.2 millions, and that is Nationwide.

Therefore, big train stations are undoubtedly very juicy platforms for publicity. I know, I know. My calculations are everything but reliable or feasible, but you get my point. Big station commuters are publicity targets for the launch of new products. Fast walkers, with just having in mind that we need to get into our train. Fast fast fast. Their strategies must be simple, appealing and on the move. This is when freebies appear.

- Oyster card wallets. Unfortunately, due to the high wear of the plastic covers, we will have to end up changing the ticket wallet at some point. Either we get another Oyster and Ikea or MasterCard will sponsorize it one for us every time it's broken, or we will accept one of those give-aways from company X given at 7 in the morning on the street. Excuses are extremely variable: Uniqlo is launching a new shop on Oxford Street, Santander Bank want us to get their 1-2-3 new Current account full of advantages, Specsavers will test my eyes for free with the coupon placed inside the wallet and even my ex-University treated me with one. Effective? Yes. I happen to remember all the ones had so far and must say, my favourite one was the infamous yellow one from Ikea. Daily reminder of that X product sold by company Y. 

-  Sneakers. You never eat chocolate bar, but you happen to be that time in the morning, peak time but not late for the train. Arrived sooner than expected because you hurried while having your coffee. No time for biscuit. Hungry. Lucky you, they are giving away free chocolate bars. My mind will store this information of chocolatey satisfaction and next time in the supermarket I would probably buy one if starving.

- Free coffee. We all know about the again, infamous coffee chain, known for their watery coffees, overpriced drinks and overall disapointment. They happen to have realised about their reputation later and apparently they want to treat us like persons right now, not like numbers, as their revamping campaign. Free coffee for everybody!! Human nature is weak, and although ethically none of us, allegedly set a foot on any of their franchises, for one day we give in: we say our name to the barista, we get our free coffee and we run out as fast as we can towards our platform, in case somebody known see us sinning. 'It was just that only time...'. Yeah yeah yeah, we all did it.

- Butter. Famous overpriced spread, not even real butter, trying to convince us to buy their product. One time they gave away a whole pack to prepare the dinner. Butter, pasta, onions and tomato sauce. This year, I was not THAT lucky, I had to be consent with just 50p off coupon. Well, it did work to me, specially when given right on the trip back home. Cheeky.

- Random stuff. Like placing a girl in her pyjama, pretending to be asleep on a king size bed in the middle of the station hall. I really wanted to wish she was sleeping for real. I am not sure if she took a break, but she definitely was still there when I came back from work. Even though it was quite an usual image, I really cannot recall what were they advertising. It was disturbing.

- Cereal. Again, one of those days that my breakfast was kind of unexistant. A little box of cereal make you day. Downside of it? They made me say 'I've been such a Diva today!'. It kind of was true. 

Then we could talk about the free newspaper. Well known names of the morning and the evening issue. Most of the time full of rubbish news, repeated news and so on. Every now and then a couple of fun articles about misbehaving kids and their submissive parents, cooking recipes about how to cook clotted cream or the painful Home & Property issue that achieves to make me extremely frustrated by the time I got home. 

Nevertheless, it is quite frequent to have (actually my favourite 'freebie') discount coupons for magazines. Funny to see that this happen on very weak month issue, when sales have not been as successful as expected (e.g. Lana del Rey in the cover of Vogue), hard discount is placed, allowing us to buy the mag for a mere quid. Probably those issues are just useful for cut-outs or cleaning windows after one read, but still, the strategy worked for the big fishes. Subsidised by WHSmith or Waitrose, I ended up buying their terrible issue.

Publicists, you guys are making a good job indeed.

Or I am weak.

Fellas

Subject A. Mature male. Aviator-like frame spectacles. Always short-sleeve shirt. Rain or sun. Funny ties. Thermal coffee jug and a tangerine. Sitting on the same table seat, even before it is announced that THAT train goes to our destination. Laptop on. Mouse cable strategically hanging on the screen. Carries a bunch of past issues of Metro.

Subject B. Chunkier male. Younger than B. Casual attire. Apple geek, geared with iPhone and iPad. Always watching a show. Knows subject A. Small talk.

Subject C. Woman. Mid 30. Formal wear. Tends to arrive almost at departure time, so never gets to choose a seat. Brushes her hair with a hairbrush, no matter who's sitting by her side. It's alright.

Subject D. Early 40 I reckon. McD breakfast guy. Full on every morning. I like his headphones. The cord looks like a rasta shoelace. Semiformal wear but quite hipster-ish on Casual Friday. No social interaction with fellow passengers.

Subject E. Male. Post mid-30s. Always wearing impecable suit. Carefully ironed shirts. Always wearing waistcoat. Nice formal coat. Carefully finished with stripped liner. Carries a knackered leather suitcase. Falls asleep like a baby as soon as he finishes his Muller yogurt. Knows Subject A, but probably because of the commuting.

Subject F. Proper english lady. I would say late 50s early 60s. Tiny glasses and granny-like shoes. Long wollen purple coat and 20s style hat. Tends to sit by my side as I normally seat quite next to the door. She hates me. I make her stand up before we have arrived at our destination. But it's not a surprise anymore. I'm on a rush to go out the first one or I don't make it to the bus. Not my fault.

Subject G. Late 30s male. Quiet, very quiet. Suited up. No social interaction. Sits down in a very straight position without resting his back on the seat. No book, no music, no paper. Also in a rush to be the first one to exit.

Subject H. Catering guy. Mid/late 50s. Nice chap. Quite enthusiastic announcing the treats of the day: 'Hot chocolate, coffee, tea, porridge, croissants, chocolate bars...'. Told me once off for pressing the lock of the doors. Even the guys from National Rail do it. 'No, that's illegal'. Never mind. No hard feelings. Haven't seen him in a couple of weeks.

Subject I. Would say late 20s. Stuck in heavy metal look. Long pony tail with plaid cap. Rolled up sleeves. Never coat. Chunky platform heavy-metal boots. Awfully long nails. He must probably plays guitar then. Carries a Nintendo DS.

And then random people.

Subject R (of revenge). Chinese girl. Probably mid 20s. I was peacefully sleeping by the window. Train was half full, so I considered putting my belongings one the seat next to mine. It's something that I never do, but due to the occupation I thought I wouldn't be a problem. Deep sleep and music own, found myself woken up with the noise of my cuttlery being drop on the floor. My banana hit my foot and my apple started to roll around the carpet. When I managed to open my eyes, I discovered this lady carelessly holding my lunch bag by a corner, putting it between the seats violently and placing her buttocks on top of my little bag of crisps stored in my bad. Said action, followed by my astonishment and the inevitable drop of my headphones, amplified the horrendous noise of crisps cracking painfully under the load, being reduced to crumbles.

Miliseconds of skepticism to which I could only react with a probably quite rude (but well deserved) 'Hey hey hey, STOP!!!'. Evil, avenging Banana surfaced from deep down inside of me. Full of anger. My needed precious little nap and my carefully calculated midday snack had just been spoiled. The fact that this occurred without a gentle interruption of my sleep with a polite 'excuse, would you mind...' Is what really infuriated me. What happened to the fellow commuter code of respect.

It is widely accepted to be rude on the tube, but not on a train. Atrocious!

I paid it back with an earlier-than-normal stand-up-and-head-to-the-door in the middle of HER sleep.

People, innit?

Lullaby

See, two years ago things were way different for me. Different place, different cities. I was always driving from A to B. I knew a lot about my origin or destination points but little about the trip. My only chance of exploring point B appeared everytime I had difficulties to park at my destination. It's in those occasions when you get to know a new road, a new shop, or even a new area if you get really lost. I was good with orientation, but was knowledge was pretty much road and motorway engineering. Trips were normally short. I had time to sing out loud on my car. My car it was everything.

I don't get the chance to sing now. I could, but the unwritten law of respect for fellow passengers is something that I strictly try to comply with. My shoes get abnormally worn out these days. I keep finding myself going shopping for shoes, as a need. Walking is my main task of the day. Necessity or pleasure.

Walk or sit down for long. Standing besides the doors of the carriage. A lot of empty time that now I need to cover with a productive solution. The solution was quite straightforward. Empty time = time to think. Time to observe. Time to evaluate. And eventhough I have just classified this time as empty, it is precious, and essential, and I really value to have it back with me a couple of hours during the day.

Empty time leads you to observation. I have always been quite nosy, just for pure curiosity. And it is sitting down observing on a train when you realise how equal we are all of us. London Underground specially, I think is one of the most democratic place of all. I am not sure if democratic is the correct word, but will leave it on the mean time. This tube is where at 6 in the morning, workers, commoners like me, hipsters, early-bird tourists and high-end bankers or managers of the City get canned on a crowded Victoria Line carriage.

You find yourself sitting down on those moquete seats that I absolute hate. We all hate them. But expensive crisp suits and grotty paint-splashed trackies sit side by side without making a conversation. They probably both read Metro. They both probably have an iPhone. One lives in Highbury and the other in Wood Green.

You get the same situation on trains. Me sitting down in front of two big-fishes from a high-end pharmaceutical or law firm, closing a multimillion deal while I tweet on my 20 pounds a month contract Blackberry.

But the part I love the most about suits is observing how the tenderly fall asleep with the gentle movement of the train. They close their eyes and their heads slowly fall down in an awkward position, that after waking up will give them neck pain for the rest of the day. Then they start to dribble. Like I do. I love it. Even the most scaring suited up big boss dribbles. Defenceless. Powerless for 20 minutes.

I observe it. I read my Metro and I look at then half smilling. They are like me. I open my yogurt.

So do them.

But that's another story.