Ooh, lots of these. Where to start.
As a teenager, I was on one of the old-style trains in South-east England that had loads of doors all the way down the carriage, next to every seat. Bored, I – unbelievably stupidly - decided to play a game of “how much can I press the latch before the door opens”.

Guess what happened next.

Guards really don’t like it when you open a door when a train is going quite fast, and then hang halfway out the opening trying to pull it shut again. Fortunately, someone pulled the emergency cord and I got away with just a very severe b*llocking – in part because I had clearly been scared completely out of my wits.

Kudos to the guy sitting opposite me, who kindly bought me a coke from the drinks cart, told me not to worry too much about my stupidity and gave me his phone number in case the police got involved.

--wavy lines—-

Now for two as a grown-up, each on the tube in London. Both amongst the most unsettling things I’ve ever seen.

First one – Northern Line, going south. I’m sitting next to a guy, mid-40s, seems slightly grubby, who’s writing in a notebook. I’m a nosey parker, so my eyes wander down to what he’s reading.

At best, it appears to be a collection of rather violent sexual fantasies against women. At worst, it’s some sort of “rape diary,” saying what he’s done to people.

Stunned, I continue reading. He’s basically writing down what he hopes to do to a girl he knows that night. It’s pretty grim stuff. I don’t know what to do – confront him? But I’m reading his diary, it’s not very polite. But then politeness is not exactly the most important thing here, is it? Pull the cord and tell the driver? Tell the driver what – a guy is writing bad stuff in a book?

Of course, I did nothing. He got off a couple of stops before me and I kept a wary eye on the newspapers for a couple of days just in case, but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. But, still, I have no idea what I should have done - my conscience isn't clear over this one - and I wish I’d never cast my eyes downwards in the first place.

--

The second is spookily similar in a way. On the tube again, in around 2003. Old guy gets on, image of the dapper city gent. Suit, hat, coat and tie – and a leather briefcase, from which he took a Times and began to read.

Normally, I’d have thought nothing of it – but there was something odd about him that caught my eye and led me to peek over. Gradually, a series of strange details filtered through – his nails were too long, and his hands kind of unkempt, and his skin a little battered. And his suit, while a smart (if old school) cut, actually looks a little stained somehow.

And then I noticed what was really wrong – the paper was indeed the Times, but from 1984 – a good 20-odd years ago. But it looked like it had been neatly folded up every day – even ironed, maybe – and placed in the briefcase.

The icing on the cake of all this weirdness was that I then saw that the guy wasn’t actually reading the paper at all. His head was moving far too fast, and he was basically just moving his head up and down, pretending he was taking stuff in, and then turning the pages.

He noticed me looking at him, and I turned away in embarrassment, and got off soon after anyway. But I’ve never been able to get him out of my mind – why that paper? And why dress up every day, and ride the tube?

It was a little like the film Falling Down, but I swear it happened. I’d love to know why, but I never will.

Apologies for length. Imagine you’re on British Rail.
(silencer, Thu 29 May 2008, 20:05, Reply)