I stepped onto the train and sat in a tight gapped seat. The carriage was normally pretty empty this time of the morning but the further we got into London the more packed it would get. That’s the problem with public transport - the public. I rested my head against the frame of the window, closed my eyes and willed 45 minutes of slumber to take over me.
A steady stream of bitter wind hitting my face startled me awake. What wasn’t rushing over my features was rebounding off the partition behind me and moving chillingly down my neck. I looked out the window to gauge a time of how long I’d been asleep. Judging by the train’s location, about ten minutes. I looked up at the recently opened window that was causing me such discomfort. I then studied the carriage, looking for a penguin or polar bear- the only things I would let off causing such an atmosphere. The only other living thing in the vicinity was a scabby looking teenager opposite me. He was wearing a large, puffy jacket, tracksuit bottoms and a baseball cap. He was skinny, far too skinny for his jacket and appeared to have no socks on.
“If,” I thought angrily to myself, “he is so warm, why doesn’t he just take that fucking jacket off?”
Alas, I’d lost my English sensibilities once already that day, by confronting the ticket clerk, and decided to make my point clear, not losing my temper at the youth but rather getting up, calmly closing the window and returning to my seat. I took a glance at the teenager as I sat back down. He didn’t move from playing with his thumbs and chewing his lip. Happy I’d so easily got my point across, I returned to sleep.
The same icy rush over my face and neck awoke me once more. I looked over at the teen. He was nonchalantly sitting there, playing with his thumbs as if nothing had happened. I rose, closed the window with a slam and returned to my seat. I hoped the forcefulness of the window’s closure this time would deter any further shenanigans. Again I settled and let the sandman carry me away to Sleepytown.
This time, when the sub-zero wake-up-call came, I sighed heavily, got up, slammed the window with a loud grunt and waited until I caught the teen’s eyes. They followed me as I sat down. I stared a hard-faced stare, eyebrows angled towards my nose – the worldwide facial expression of ‘angry’. His eyes looked into mine for a few seconds and then wandered back down towards his thumb-fiddling. I took a look at where we were; I still had about twenty minutes of journey left. The train was quite packed with several people standing, all the seats taken. Beside me now sat a hefty woman. She was eating crisps louder than I’d ever thought possible. Demolition crews could bring buildings down quieter. Despite the noise I managed to drift off again.
Cold wind woke me again and anger took hold. Sod being English, I was going to cause a scene. I stood, grabbed the open window in one hand and pointed at the youth with my other. His head shifted up to look at me as I began the scolding.
“Right then, pal,” I began, spitting the words between my gritted teeth, “once more and I’ll block the draught with your scrawny frame. How long you last in there before falling violently onto the tracks will depend on how well you and your, quite frankly enormous, jacket keep the hot air in and the cold air out. Do you understand?”
I slammed the window as he got up, weaved though the tangle of legs and disappeared among the people further down the carriage - all without saying a word. I sat back down, becoming aware of the curious eyes watching me from above newspapers and books. “All this namby-pamby stiff upper lip stuff gets you nowhere,” I thought, “I’m these people’s hero”. I flashed the tiniest of smiles to my spectators before looking out of the window again. We were about five minutes out of Charing Cross. There seemed no point in going back to sleep so I sat, quietly enjoying the warmth and letting the time pass. After about two minutes of enjoying this bliss the window rattled itself open, letting the polar-like winds engulf me. It took a second or two before realisation set in. It took a further second or two before I realised that all eyes in the carriage were, once again, on me. I rested my head against the frame of the window, closed my eyes and willed my seat to fall out the bottom of the train.
Posted by
Brock, 13th April 2006:
Is the happy ending to this story where the young aggrieved homeless sort stabbed you as you got off?
Posted by
Emma, 13th April 2006:
that was alfie logged in as emma btw
Posted by
Emma, 13th April 2006:
emma thinks the story is shit