I am a collossal hypochondriac and a germophobe. For this reason, the universe always sits the coughing wheezing snifflers in front of or next to me on trains and buses (and airplanes). Today I found myself in front of a violent throat clearer. Everytime he did it, I shook in my seat. But that wasn't it. As he read his free paper, he picked his nose. Not just lightly or fleetingly. He was digging deep. He was fracking for shale gas deep. Having satisfied himself, he rolled his quarry between thumb and index and wiped it on the seat. Now I don't want to sit in a train or read a free paper or even leave the house ever again.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Milk and sugar

I accompanied my dad to the hospital as he underwent cataract surgery. After the operation, while my dad awaited being discharged, a nurse with a Belfast accent asked us if we wanted some tea. Yes, we said. We’d love some. Milk or sugar? she asked. Milk but no Sugar for me, Sugar but no Milk for my dad, said I. Huh? I’ll take milk but no sugar. My dad will take sugar but no milk, please. I’m sorry, what? I like my tea with milk but without sugar. My dad wants it the other way around. Errrrrrrrrr…... After about ten minutes, the conversation had descended to the following: Small man glug glug milky, Big man glug glug sweety! You’re making this very difficult, she said. Two teas with milk and sugar please, I finally said. Okay, she said. In the end, nobody was happy.
Read more

Gum

I am a civilised man. When I have had my fill of chewing a piece of gum, I choose to dispose of it in a bin. Today was no different. I wanted to be rid of the gum, I saw a bin in the distance and I walked to it. Upon arrival, I remembered that it is not polite to spit in public. So I held the gum between my teeth and lifted it from there using my index finger and thumb. I glided my hand from my mouth to the bin and parted my fingers. The gum held on to my thumb for dear life. Shaking my hand didn't budge it one bit. Pulling it with the other hand only added to the scale of the tragedy. I could describe the farce in more detail over drinks one day. But I will just say that even now, a few hours later, I am still rubbing out bits of gum from between my fingers, palm, shirt sleeve and the hairs of my wrist. Next time, I'll spit.
Read more

City life

The southbound Bakerloo line platform was dangerously crowded at Baker Street. I stood in my usual spot - I always board at the same door because it stops right by the exit at Oxford Circus. I was apprehensive about being pushed onto the tracks, crowded as it was. A guy pushed in front of me. Okay, no problem thought I. Then the train came, a miniature Hillsborough disaster as usual, and the masses started to get on board. The guy in front of me kept letting people go in before him. That's okay up to a point, but he wasn't allowing much room for those behind him (me). He finally squeezed in last. I knew his game. He wanted to be the last one in, first one out. Motherfucker! I couldn't get on. I so wanted to throw a punch in his face just as the doors were sliding shut. But there was no guaranteeing they wouldn't open again.
Read more