The thrill of the daily commute (or how my mind works)
Check I've packed my sandwich and fruit in my bag, my wallet in my left pocket and mobile in the right. Ready to go. Walk down the stairs, get angry that the maintenance company still haven't sorted their shit out and gotten this stairwell clean. It's less than two years old and looks an absolute tip. What a pile of bollocks. Turn any lights off that have been left on. Why couldn't the guy who built the place just get timed light switches that you press once and turn off automatically. I wonder who's even paying the bill for the electricity in the hallway anyway. Another bulb gone, the electric's probably a bit dodgy in this building, not that I'd ever know. It'd be handy to have knowledge about stuff like that but I just really, really don't care. It's like wanting to learn another langu- Open the front door.

Fucking bin men have left the bins straddled across the path like an obstacle course again, bastards. Is this like some petty rebellion because I make their job more difficult. Why are those wooden chairs still there!? Can't someone phone the council to get them taken away? I'll have to get Bryony to do it or something.

I'll just pop the newspaper in the recycle bin. We've really got to get a separate bin, this hand-carrying of recyclable goods everyday is bloody annoying, especially as I'm the only one who does it. Saying that though there's so much that needs to be done to the flat... Best not to think about it.

No two steps can be on the same surface. Keeps me occupied till I get to the tube at least.

There's that old tramp again. He's one of the reasons I fear the summer. The idea of seeing him with his top off again and his matted silver jacket of hair is one I wouldn't miss too much. On the one hand I hate him for being there, everyday, with his trolley suitcase, on the other hand I wonder what the fuck his story is. He looks shabby, but not completely destitute. Anyway, probably best not to think about it too much.

Oh here we fucking go. 50 odd people at the pedestrian crossing and not one fucker has had the initiative to press the wait button. Since they've tilted the time balance in favour of traffic at these traffic lights, all we need is for them to only start ticking now. I'd fucking hate pedestrians here if I were a driver. I consider myself a pretty confident crosser when there's a gap, but these people are just taking the piss. Also, what's with people standing on the road!? Do they think that if they edge closer and closer that all cars will give up and just go "You win! On you go. I'll just abandon my car and we can all walk together hand in fucking hand"? Look at that bus about to pull off, he physically can't fit past. He's just gonna twat that guy in the face. Ooooh! That was close. The guy looks pissed now, haha. Well, if you will stand on the road, Sir Shitobot.

Finally I can cross. Why the fuck is everyone walking so slow. So many fucking people, and those bastards coming the other way can fuck right off. Not going towards the tube? Unemployed shitbrick, get out of my way. No I do not want a Metro thanks, although I'll actually verbalise my "no thank you" with a smile. That guy's just trying to make a living, no need to get arsey like some of these cunts just because he's trying to give something away for free, even if it is propaganda. I applied the same logic to those Scientologists the other day. Does that make me a better person? Does it fuck but at least I'm reducing the spread of negativity emanating from me.

Why is it that some people walk so slowly down stairs? I'm not talking about the elderly or someone who is physically disabled in any way, I'm talking about the woman who was walking at a reasonable pace back at the pelican crossing making a nice slipstream for me to capitalise on, but now she's strolling like she's at Kew fucking Gardens taking in the full splendour of nature. If that guy to my right picks up the pace, I can jump in the gap and get down these stairs 0.1 seconds quicker. It's not much but I'll feel better knowing I took the best path.

The ticket hall's rammed on the right with people stocking up their Oyster cards. Shit design that is. That lot could be siphoned off elsewhere, there's enough space. Instead they're just sprawling into the walkway like well-dressed extras from a George Romero film. Anyway, I'm past them now, time to make the most of the empty space behind them before deciding on the most efficient gate. Bollocks, I had to choose the girl with the dodgy Oyster card. Gonna have to be a cunt and cut through to the line for the gate next to me. Sorry! I learned a good lesson from my old boss that when acting like a cunt that way, just put a big grin on and below an apology in a loud voice and they'll end up either thinking you're simple or English isn't your first language and this is just some cultural difference. Either way, they'll be too confused to get too annoyed by it and by the time they work it out, you're gone.

The left escalator is always the best. I have no idea why. The right one is more in line with the less busy gates, so the gates where surely people who know where the fuck they want to go come from, yet it seems pretty consistent that the left escalator is the speedy one. A good display of unity here as everyone's walking down, not one bastard standing still, even on the right. I think the signs that say "stand on the right" are wrong. People shouldn't be encouraged to be lazy. The rules of the road should apply here. Right is the slow lane, left is the overtaking lane. That way, when some bastard starts strolling as though it were a hot summer’s Sunday on the left, I wouldn't have to bite my lip and try to channel my pure hatred into the back of his head.

Take a look to my left, no train, a look to my right, train. I never trust the "Next train" signs, they're always pessimistic. I don't care if the train's about to leave, I'm not here to travel first class, I'm here to get from a to b. I don't mind running whilst the doors are beeping.

No train on the other platform means I've got time to walk down the platform to get into the best position for the interchange at Stockwell. The double doors opposite the last opening to the other platform. You've gotta have a system. Most people can't be bothered to walk this far, so there are plenty of seats available, but I'll stand. If I do choose to sit, I'll never sit in the furthest seats, those are the "please give these seats up to someone more needy" chairs. If I get a seat, I want to be able to just sit, and pretend the world doesn't exist around me. It's either that or I'll stand, no in-between.

Take my surfing stance as I hear a train pull into the other platform and the beeping as the doors close on my own. No space issues here and I'll be getting off at Stockwell so once the doors are closed I brace in the centre of the doors on the correct side of the train ready to run if I can see a train on the opposite platform when we get to the next station.

A couple of minutes later and the train pulls into Stockwell. There's a fucking army of people all just standing there staring into the window as we glide past them, decelerating. This scene always makes me think of Zombie films. The desperation on their face. The single goal they all have. The uniform way they line up to the doors. BRAINS!

The train has stopped and the doors have yet to open. I can't see anyone making any space for me outside the train so I can get off and I can see a Northern Line train on the opposing platform with swarms of the cunts towards this one. In this second I give fair warning with a look of determined malice on my face targetted at the inconsiderate bastards in front of me. I'm letting them know that I will shortly be leaving this train and if they aren't polite enough to make a space for me to get through then I shall make it myself. The doors open and a little token half-arsed shuffling from one or two does fuck all. My path is still blocked. I drop my shoulders and walk as though I'm walking through an overgrown garden with thin vines hanging down in my path. Sure a few people get knocked, almost losing their balance, but it's their own fucking fault.

The flow of traffic in the walkway is still vastly imbalanced as I trail blaze the way to the northern line as the scout of the Victoria Line. Some have gotten complacent and haven't thought to look where they're going, maybe subconsciously thinking this is a one way tunnel. Wrong fucking move, amigo. A few shoulder on shoulder collisions always see the other person worse off as I'm actually paying attention to my stance and whereabouts. I'm being considerate, I'm about as far left as you can get skirting against the wall of the tunnel with it's helpful "keep to the left" signs, but any sign of weakness against these bastards will mean I'll never get through.

As I finally get through the doors close on the train opposite. It wasn't even that full! Shitty tube driver getting kicks out of abusing what should be a natural synchronicity between the two lines. Look up to the next train board. Oh bollocks. The next one's a Charring Cross one. There are hardly ever Charring Cross branch Northern line trains that go beyond Kennington, but here we are, patiently waiting for one. Great.

Ideally, I want to be at the far end of the platform but (a) so does every other fucker going to Bank and (b) that's the end where the entrance of the station is, so anyone without tactics will gather at this end. I cannot tolerate those without a game plan. I don't mind losing to better players, but every second counts here. I don't want to be on this network one second longer than I need to be. Best to find a spot mid platform where it's quieter so I can get a better strategic position on the train itself after boarding.

Dealing with a Charring Cross train is tricky. You want to find the position on the platform adjacent to where the doors open, secure your spot but not obstruct anyone who actually wants to catch that train. Media types no doubt. Charring Cross branch commuters generally tend to be more attractive than Bank branch equivalent. I guess the city takes a certain type of cunt. I find the best method is to stand your ground, then when the train arrives, move yourself right up against the train, standing at the edge of the doorway, not obstructing it at all. You allow the transition flow of people, but retain your front-of-platform position. Don't get too eager though. Watch this inconsiderate berk who thinks he's being clever by standing in front of the still open door as the waiting passengers who wanted to board have done so. Watch as that big burly running guy literally knocks him out of the way as he dives on board the waiting train just as the doors close. I nonchalantly take the opportunity to step in his now vacated place as he stands aside dazed. Now I've got the prime spot. Yes.

At this point I can even risk taking my book out of my bag to read. No more distraction from tube advertising which I pay far more attention to than I'd like. Those bastards better be paying good money. No advertising sinks into my subconscious as much as tube advertising. Look how cocky they are with their essays on the wall. There isn't an audience much more captive than that. We're close to autopilot time now, I can almost taste the victory. I ensure I'm behind the yellow line and I'm going no fucking closer no matter how hard someone's poking me in the back. It's not like it's going to make any difference. Here comes the train. Watch the minions around me envy my prime position. Look at the pathetic scheming in their eyes. Like a dog salivating over its dinner, have you no shame? It slows down, coming gently to a stop... Wait, the bastard's stopped a metre different from the last one! What a cunt!

It's usually a satisfying feeling watching the hoards pile out of the train, but there's a real problem here. I'm in a position that can not be described as prime by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, my closeness to the edge gives me absolutely no control over my path. It's sidestep all the way. There's real potential that I may not be able to board the train. All I can do is watch the people getting off. Shit, is that it? That wasn't a good turnaround for Victoria Line changers, this is going to be a challenge. There's not much in way of tactics at this point (or have I just yet to work out what is best) other than to shuffle and hope for the best. Some have given up, the train is almost rammed, but further down the carriage I can see there's more space. Inconsiderate motherfuckers. Riled on by this injustice I'm left with no choice but to make space where there is none and sort the filtration after the doors are closed. Sorry! Apply the loud beaming face method again, push into people uncomfortably to make sure the door can close around me and... Ouch! The bastard door opened again and smacked my head. That'll teach me to relax. Take two and we're away! Hooray!

I have no strategic handle to hold, but at this point I'm wedged enough that it doesn't matter. Got to keep my eye open for an opening to a handle though. No chance to read the book at this point but that may improve later. Got to stay optimistic, hey? My face is awkwardly close to another woman’s and I can tell she's pretty uncomfortable about it. What can I do though? She has the option of looking away, but my head is like a murderers on a pike in medieval London, doing nothing but staring vacantly in one direction.

It's funny watching the people at Oval. They're the ones I pity most. I used to have to get on here. No-one gets off at Oval and the train's as full as it's going to get. Breathe in- door opens. I look around sympathetically to the man standing there on the platform and also thank god for some relatively fresh air. It might not be country fresh, but it's better than that guy's suit jacket that could really do with a dry clean. My head's back and I'm taking big lungfuls of the stuff. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. Breathe in- we're off again.

Hooray for Kennington Bank Branch. I'm not fucking about as the door opens, I'll step off the train, onto the platform into a position that ensures I'm the first back on, but the Charring Tossers can get off more easily. Always good to shoot looks of distain at others who should really have done the same but instead are now bouncing about like human pinballs. Last one gone, now I'm straight back on. Don't toy with me German dude. I was on the train before and I'll be the first back one. Quick decision needed... Seating aisle or opposite door? Seating aisle or opposite door? Seating aisle or opposite door? Opposite door. The seating aisle will have high turnover and since this journey only involves the door opening on the same side at each stop, my opposite door position will give me minimum fuss like my own cave to hide in. There's good access to a handle, a good space to hold my book and now I can pretend to be somewhere else.

London Bridge. Used to get off here when working at my old job, amongst the swarms of people waiting to cram on but alas now I too have to deal with this, the biggest changeover stop of the journey. If it weren't for my prime location, I'd be battered alongside everyone else, but I can stand my ground and stay focused on the book, ensure that I'm using as little space as possible and tune out again.

Time to start the I'm-getting-off-at-the-next-stop-don't-you-know shuffle to inform those around me that they will shortly have to get to fuck. Eye up my opponents also performing the same game to work. Know your enemy. This is a game often with more losers than winners. Be forceful when dealing with people who'll be remaining on the train, but always back down in one-to-one battles with people also trying to get off. They'll be using the same force and it's just not worth it.

The platform's fucking rammed. Everyone's trundling at a ridiculously slow pace towards the Bank Of England exit end of the platform. Time to play the ace up my sleeve. Shuffling, 5 metres. Shuffling, 4 metres. Shuffling, 3 metres. Shuffling, 2 metres. Shuffling, 1 metre, and ninety degrees! Across to the opposite platform! Hahaha, look at my acres of space! A rare opportunity to walk full speed on the underground at rush hour should not be taken for granted. I'm like an Olympic fast walker, throwing in a cheeky waddle as they do too. Look right and catch someone's eye amongst the masses each time I walk adjacent to a walkway to mock them from afar. Look at me with my space, look at you with your zombie paced walking. I am better than you. I am the best.

Keep to the left up the stairs, sure it's slower than running up the right, but if anyone on the right wants to push an ascender back down, then I for one will clap. Them’s the rules.

Cut through the phenomenal people traffic to the lifts. The day I discovered the where the lift entrance was a good one. Goodbye elaborate twists and turns through the warren hole, this baby takes me right to where I need to go. Lift number 2 is still there, quick jog round the corner to have a look. Shit, no chance. Number 5 behind me is next. Bastards! Where did they all come from! I'd better get in that one when it arrives, you parasites. Surely I have rights, I was here before you! Aaah, the lift's huge, what am I worrying about. Got to stay as close to the entrance as possible as it's also the exit. Find the first available spot adjacent to a wall and make it your own.

It's plain sailing now. The slow ascent of the lift. The casual stroll out the doors with the other. Out the much less busy gates, keep to the left through the tunnel and then first exit on the left. No need to bother with overtaking games here, they're just plain dangerous in this tunnel. I've seen some pretty nasty collisions in my time. Unnecessary games of chicken. Nobody wins. This is the final furlong, almost back to the surface. Just the stairs remain. Almost ready to start fucking work.
( ma0sm, Fri 30 May 2008, 11:06, 7 replies)

Ah bliss
Yes, I remember why I don't work in London any more. Sometimes I get the train to Crawley in the morning: it's a real bitch when I can't get a table to myself.

*clicky*
(Mork, Fri 30 May 2008, 11:14, closed)

Awesome
Have a large click mate - you clearly need it.

I used to a Tube victim, now, I drive 35 miles each way through the lovely countryside of East Yorkshire and the journey, door-to-door - including a brisk 20 minute riverside walk - takes me about an hour and a quarter.

Still, fecking petrol prices!

I well remember those inch-perfect platform positionings...
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 30 May 2008, 11:24, closed)

I've polished it up a bit
I realised that the latter half was a bit thin as it took so long to write and I was losing patience by the end.

It's not particularly interesting, but you spend so much of your conscious time on public transport it sadly fills a large part of your knowledge. A sickening amount in fact.
( ma0sm, Fri 30 May 2008, 14:51, closed)

this is better than the narrative bits of Peep Show!
have a click for your heroic efforts sir
( h3donist tryin' to play me out as if my name is Sega.., Fri 30 May 2008, 15:40, closed)

*click*
But now I am wound up for my trip on the Northern Line in 10 minutes...
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 30 May 2008, 17:07, closed)

*click*
Charing Cross branch commuters are more attractive; Bank branch commuters are better dressed.
(miffytherabbit, Fri 30 May 2008, 17:39, closed)

Epic win.
Have a *click* from a fellow Northern-liner (I *attempt* to get on at Oval, when I'm not cycling. It's a sodding nightmare).
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Tue 3 Jun 2008, 15:23, closed)