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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Oh, yeah, I’m pretty good with public transport. I mean, I don’t want to boast or anything, but I can get on and off tube trains just like an expert can. If it were an Olympic sport, I’d be a very enthusiastic bronze medal winner, with the style and the routine of a pro, only not actually professional. I can leap through closing doors, I mind the gap with the best of them, I can find space on a crowded train where previously there was no space, and I’m very good at ignoring the fact that there are tens of hundreds of millions of people standing right beside me at any given time. I can even read during rush hour. That’s right. Look impressed.

However, yesterday I got my head stuck between two closing doors.

It happened like this: I got on the train. The driver told me to mind the closing doors. The station attendant said to mind the closing doors. The neon sign flashed up the fact that the doors were closing, and that I was to mind them. I ignored all of their heart felt instructions, and got my head stuck between the two doors.

I say “stuck”. I of course mean that my head was struck sharply on the left (just above the ear) by one of the doors closing, and then I immediately turned away from the blow, in order to save myself further damage.

By turning away from the blow, I managed to get my right hand stuck between the two doors, thereby causing myself further damage.

I did what any self respecting London commuter does when this happens. I pretended that it hadn’t, and then three minutes later surreptitiously checked for blood.


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