One in the face

FUCKING ESCALATORS.

I just feel it’s one of the worst places to do anything except stand there or walk. If you are standing, great, just mind where you stand and enjoy the slowest rollercoaster in the world. An escalator is a glimpse into your future, into your old age. Although a stair lift, to me, looks amazing. It would be very impractical in my life, but it would be amazing after a long night out.

But back on track, reading is great. It’s acceptable and a great way to get you off the phone. Now, things you shouldn’t partake in: doing some arts and crafts, drinking a large foamy coffee, and tying your shoelaces. The way I see it, there isn’t enough room to have one foot in front of you and lunge down to reach your shoe. So your only option is to move out of the steady moving queue and breach the running track, the left lane, or the walking lane of the escalator. So now you’ve created hurdles. For everyone. People now have to either jump over you and risk spilling their breakfast, or lock eyes with your stupidity, wait till you’ve done your shoelaces up, and quickly undo them and carry on walking down.

Now putting this all into practice, here’s what happened one Friday night after a long night of sports, not drinking.

My evening so far

I had played some sports, therefore I was carrying a lot of bags. I had two backpacks and one carrier bag. I like to invest in a good backpack from time to time; however, they always look big enough, but never are, and I find myself carrying most of the stuff I need in my hands. So if I fall, I have a jacket potato or a tin of beans to break my fall. Not really on my side with those odds.

Then, because of the vast quantity of bags, I’ve developed an idea, a strategy, that I thought was great. Not entirely sure how it makes sense, but it does work at the best of times. What I do when walking down the escalator is lift one or two of my bags up to my chest height. Why, you may ask? Well, I have a weird thing that someone hopefully shares. If I can’t see the steps, I basically forget how to use them, and then it’s just a matter of time before I forget how to walk and then plummet into a pool of embarrassment.

It’s like when someone tells you, “Don’t forget to breathe,” then you focus on how to breathe until you remember that you can do it without thinking. Same with steps. If I can’t see them, I’m fucked.

Anyway, I was in a rush. I fumbled at the barriers, my card just didn’t want to give my money away. But once I was able to get through, whilst pissing off a few eager passengers, I darted for the escalator. Bags ready, I made my descent.

Now, what I failed to notice with my technique of carrying bags, I sort of gained chicken wings. They broke out from my slender look and were really out there. This will become relevant in my downfall.

Ahead of me was a large group of women playing stupid games, a mix between standing in the running track lane and trying to stop people from getting home. The other tactic was to try and trip someone down the bloody escalator. Now, I may mock stupidity on this blog, but this was just idiotic. Not on.

I love an unintentional trip, earned through your own stupidity, where you trip over your own feet or slip on a puddle. The end result is just some laughs and maybe a small bruise. But this group wanted a big woozy. A fall down the escalator is like falling down stationary stairs on steroids. For starters, it’s moving. Getting off is already a palaver. Just not one of the brightest ideas I’ve witnessed.

I was walking down quite briskly, chicken wings armed, well, stuck. I couldn’t actually change my position whilst moving, as I would most definitely lose it. One of these women decided it was the best time to tie her shoes, and I didn’t notice until contact was made, clipped her in the head with my elbow, chicken wing. Not what I wanted to happen.

The start of the commotion I couldn’t hear as I had my headphones on, so I could hear muffled noise from this group of women, which is quite understandable. I clearly messed up there, but in some ways, it was seen as a heroic, accidental move, as they stopped playing their stupid game. Probably because a new goal had been set, Finding me. I muffled a sorry as I carried on walking, I couldn’t stop, as I was in the fast lane.

Fight or Flight

What would you do? I could have waited at the bottom and apologised profusely, or I could have gotten out of this tube station as fast as possible and disappear. By that, I mean just get on the tube home, but pronto.

I chose the latter. I’ve been watching far too many spy documentaries, and so I knew how to evade people somewhat. Except, in that particular moment, I was wearing a neon top and shorts and bright trainers and headphones. I stood out quite a lot.

Once on the platform, the disguise began. I popped my turtleneck jumper on, which is made for mid-winter chills and not for a very hot tube after a very sweaty evening. I put my headphones in my bag, tidied up my messy hair, changed my shoes, and put on jeans. I used my shorts to try and wipe the sweat off. I then walked down the platform and, with a slouched posture, slid into this large group of people. I was constantly looking around, as I didn’t want to get into a fight, because I knew I would lose badly.

The tube arrived in a matter of minutes. I jumped on. It was busy, but it was safe. As the train was departing, I looked through and could see, standing on the other platform for the other tube, that group of women, who had obviously moved on and didn’t give a shit about me. All that pain and tactics were for nothing.

But that wasn’t the end of my streaming journey.

The tube was boiling. I was steaming. I felt like a piece of pasta. I couldn't take the turtleneck off for two reasons. One, there wasn’t enough room. I would’ve knocked someone. The other reason was at that point, this turtleneck was the only thing keeping the smell of me in. I don’t think I could have blessed that tube with the stench.

Once the tube arrived, I darted to freedom, or as some call it, a bench. I dropped all my bags to the floor and ripped this god-awful turtleneck off. It felt amazing.

I took a 5-minute break just to regain my thoughts.

And off I went.