Wednesday, July 20, 2005

And..breath again.


I thought I was a goner last night.
Just as the doors of my train were closing a man jumped aboard. He was young, in his mid twenties, of a swarthy complexion and sporting a Muslim style beard.

He sat on the opposite side of the passage, clutching a bulky backpack to his chest.
And boy, was he sweating. Both his forehead and top lip were streaming.

He kept glancing at his watch and out the window, fidgeting and toying with his cellphone.

I expect I was staring at him while I engaged in a heated internal debate with myself.
On my left shoulder the Gecko of Paranoia. He was ticking off the attributes that survivors of the recent bomb attacks had noted about the rabid little mongrels who carried them out:
Fidgety- check!
Sweating – check!
Backpacks held against their chest/body - check!
Swarthy, middle easterny types – check!
Public transport – check!
Rush hour – check!
Possible cellphone based detonators – check!

He was of course insisting that I stand up and scoot at least 2 carriages further on, away from this potential madman and his bag o’ death.

On my right shoulder sat the Gecko of Calm. He was pointing out that my train service is hardly packed and skirts around the main routes; it would be silly and pointless for Abdulla Iblowup to target this train, particularly since the train just after this one calls at all the major stations.

But, said the Gecko of Paranoia, maybe he didn’t check the boards.

Now I was sweating.

While I was watching my innate stubbornness (the part of me that refused to run away, thereby surrendering victory in principle to the vainglorious filth who orchestrated 7th July) wrestle with my self preservation (fuck the principles, run for your life), the guy that was causing me all this grief reached down into his bag, rummaged around …. And pulled out a copy of Men’s Health.

I was disappointed, in a macabre sort of way. He didn’t so much as burn the magazine. Seconds later his mobile rang and his conversation started “Yeah sorry mate, I had to run for my train….”

Point taken, lesson learned.
Posted by Mark :: 23:23 :: 0 Comments:

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