Confessions of a Commuter...

WHY OH WHY OH WHY is this man's derriere in my face.... This morning I hope-upon-hope that this is the day when manners are second-nature to my fellow Bakerloo Line commuters...... Urgh! He just sneezed on my shoulder! Sigh, alas my hopes are dashed - manners must have caught an earlier train.

This train is packed. If I karate-kick the sneezer very hard, can make it out of Maida Vale Station before they figure out that the rude man has not just fallen asleep, but has actually been assaulted by a do-gooder? Hmmmmm, my right shoulder suddenly feels very heavy. Oh, it must be my conscience warding off the bad thoughts. Oh well, no worry. If I tried, I would only lose my seat and in rush hour, my seat is my life. If I was standing up, like her in the corner, being squashed in the side by a pregnant man and squashed in the back by a pensioner with obvious OCD, I think this may just be the morning that I do something 'silly'!

My conversation with my friend opposite is strained, as the suited and booted gentleman is anything but gentle with his huge bag swinging violently close to my head. I am sure everybody on this train is out to get me! What did I do to deserve this?!? I know it's because I look like I'm polite. My theory is that the more polite you are, the ruder people become.

*Sigh*

Ahhh, a Metro! Now how do I grab it without losing my seat! Using my eyes, I signal to my friend calling attention to the paper but just as I do, old smelly over there reaches over my friends head, armpits exposed nonetheless, and grabs the very thing that would have kept me sane for the next eights stops.

I see stars! Bag man has knocked me out during his rush to be first off the train at Paddington. The embarrassment will subside, but will my fear of travelling on the tube, after this!?! The knock wasn't so bad, I am more bothered about the fact that my hair got attached to the bag's cheap Velcro fastener and I too ended up at the door. I lean on the door as the train tries to pull away. The doors open once more. 'I know it's crowded back there but if you would kindly not lean on the door, we'll be on our way'. The train drivers announcement calls attention to me. I feel as if the whole carriage is glaring my way...

My friend is nowhere to be seen as the sea of people engulf me. My seat long gone, I stand at the door, bruised and tired. The doors close.... The pregnant man that now squashes me from behind, yawns loudly, I feel the breeze of it brush swiftly against my neck. I try to scream but by now the dizziness has taken hold and I just want to be sick. The little old man in front of me holds the pole with his hanky, taking intermittent puffs on his blue inhaler. Perhaps he too is wondering whether MRSA is airborne on this train, travelling in yawn form. This journey is taking forever..... Argh... Help!

*Screech* The train pulls to a halt: Oxford Circus, my stop. Just as well. I think, I've had enough of these rude people and this dirty journey. I am batted off the train by the throngs of travellers changing at or leaving the station. I'm never travelling during rush hour again!!!

Until tomorrow....

Dedicated, with love, to all 30'somethings out there!

**NEWSFLASH**NEWSFLASH**NEWSFLASH**NEWSFLASH**

I turned 30 on 15 June 2008! (Cue the garish music, violins and doves)

Indeed, as you might expect, it was an altogether frightening, depressing and sinister experience for the six months leading up to the day. I had never been a worrier, but I had become decrepid in the space of weeks!

However, contrary to my expectations, on Sunday 15 June, there were no life-changing revelations.... The sky did not blacken and roar with thunder, my skin did not instantly wrinkle, my magnifying glass refused to expose the grey hairs I assumed would sprout from my ears at the stroke of midnight on the anniversary of my birth, and the ambulance that I pre-booked to take me to the 'old people's home', conveniently lost its way.... My family were the same, my friends were the same, I was the same.

It turns out that the amount of sleep I lost worrying about this new stage of life was wasted. Many had done it before me, and many would after me. Convincing myself of that was easier than I had imagined. The negative tantra of 'Sam, what do you have to show for your 30 years on this earth?' turned into 'Sam, what do you want to achieve in your next 30 years on earth?'. Negatives became positives, depression turned to joy.

I realised that I have so much to look forward to that wasting time worrying about my age, was not a sensible thing to do at my age! And let's face it, 30's not that bad after all - just ask any 40 year-old!

Happy 30s!