Why oh why do these things happen to me?
Friday afternoon travelling home should be an event of great relief and great joy after a long hard week of slogging.
Not so.
Not for me and others who took the 5:58pm train from Charing Cross to Hayes. All went well until a dodgy chap got on, muttering to himself. I thought, fair ‘nough, I am sure I mutter to myself too on occasion. I probably fall asleep in mid-conversation and snore too, but that is besides the point. Said Odd Man (after this referred to as OM) plonked himself down on a two seater, facing me, but far enough away so that I was not subjected to spittle flying. But I kept my umbrella handy. OM then proceeded to make a range of very abusive phone calls – as soon as he started cussing like a sailor with tourettes I plugged myself into my mp3 player – and was amazed to watch his facial contortions which resulted in a standing fight, complete with hand outflung, and foot kicking his train seat whilst I was listening to Maroon 5. It didn’t stop there. Because I was in his line of view he started making eye contact and spitting randomly, plucking at his hair, doing a very good imitation of someone very close to a nervous breakdown.
At the one station, as people started getting up to get off, he eyeballed this one chap, started calling him names that made my hair curl, and invited him off the train for a good old one-two (in much rougher language than that, I might add). OM was working himself up to a frenzy now and was swearing even louder (yes, that is possible). Which is the point where I drew the line. I asked the lady sitting next to me to please excuse me.
Being that close to a psycho was making me feel physically ill – no jokes. I got up and went to go sit much further down the passage. This was about the time he lit up a cigarette. And of course, everyone was so stunned and scared witless, no one bothered asking him not to.
I made my escape at my station, physically shaken by the encounter. I am so glad that I am not his wife, partner or one of his kids – I think that is what the fight was about – not being able to see his kids or something like that. I didn’t want to listen – he kept on threatening to kill “her” and rip “her” heart out.
Unfortunately, I was too far down the train to actually speak to the train driver – I think maybe half the coach got off at our stop, just to get away from him, even though the next train was twenty minutes later.
Tsk. So much for starting a peaceful weekend.
1 comment:
No doubt the woman in question, once she's recovered from the latest beating, will forgive him because "he does love me and he didn't mean it, it really was my fault for burning his toast."
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