As I enter the stuffy carriage a man is threatening to kick a group of young teenagers off. They swear at him in retaliation and swig their beers. My sanity slides away and I want to punch the guy who has his headphones too loud across the aisle and the couple tangling tongues in front of me (leave it at home can’t they?). Actually if the guy turned up his music I wouldn’t have to hear the slurpy kissing noises—no wonder people bury themselves in their heads. Thank god the kissy couple are getting off. Trust me to pick the seat next to the drunk who leers inanely at me, the stale alcohol billowing off his grubby skin. Maybe if I look like I am reading he won’t talk to me (as if I could concentrate enough to read in all of this); perhaps standing is a better option but I might attract the guy near the door with his mangy dog, rabbiting on about the social injustices done to him daily, every second word an expletive, ‘F—ing cops picked me up for f—king jaywalking yesterday, didn’t they?’ A mother slaps her kid and he starts bellyaching. A phone jangles with tinny techno. Why does everyone have to be so loud? I don’t want to know how Shazza treats her boyfriend thank you very much, or about the loser that keeps coming round to your house and eating all your food and smoking all your fags, or even about how your boyfriend slept with your best friend. And do you have to verbally abuse that girl because she won’t budge over and sit next to the window—there’s probably something sticky and grey on the seat or cola spreading and congealing beneath it. At least the graffiti is usually dry. At the other end of the carriage a group of tough boys get on, talking up their dull lives. One pulls out a cap gun and fires it, ‘BANG!’ The sound shoots through the carriage, reverberating like a real shot. People jump. The boys laugh, egged on by the fear. ‘BANG!’ It’s starting to piss me off. The guy across from me misunderstands my mood. ‘Don’t worry. It’s just a cap gun. They are only doing it to frighten people.’ And everyone just takes it, just sits there and pretends it’s not happening, they are somewhere other than in this overcrowded carriage with the smell of sweat in their nostrils.
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