Where there's a Willesden there's a way

Sunday, November 09, 2003

Argh! No!

Disaster struck on the 18:15 to Euston. I was minding my own business, slightly annoyed at the couple engaging in drunken swearing and fumbling in the presence of myself, some old women and a kid, who really shouldn't hear language like that. But I managed to avoid any conversation with them, until we pulled in to Euston ("It's not fucking Euston!", "Yes it is fucking Euston, I fucking know London I do!"). I walked up to the doors, checked we were on a platform side and pressed the button to open the doors.

And waited. It was starting to attract attention.
("Fucking hell mate. They've fucking locked us in they 'ave")
And waited. I pressed the button a few more times.

At which point the doors behind us were opened by a guard, who said ('Can't get out that way mate.')
So everyone had a good laugh at my expense. On the way out Loud Drunk Man said, "I'd hate to be that guy who tried opening the wrong set of doors. Well embarassing."

I tried to laugh it off. "Yes, let's just pretend that didn't happen, shall we."

He laughed and walked off. But his parting shot was
"Got your number, 118!"



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