That’s me in the back row, third from the left, getting ready to head into the office. Press releases won’t edit themselves, you know.
I’m an idiot.
In reality the morning commute looks like this:
I spent like 10 minutes drawing that picture, so you better enjoy it. Notice how I put dirt marks on the carriage and added little green stench waves. Realism.
In the summer it’s so hot you sometimes worry about suffocating when you get stuck in a tunnel for half an hour with no air conditioning, no air flow, and you are squashed in the middle of the carriage as the above picture illustrates.
If you are lucky enough to get a seat you won’t have to stand in anyone’s armpit, but you’ll still have to smell the fumes of nail polish as the girl next to you decides a busy tube is the right time to paint her nails. You’ll still have to breathe in the cough of the guy next to you, and watch as spittle flies out of his mouth and lands on your coat because he was too busy reading his Metro to cover his mouth.
Even if you are lucky enough to get a seat, by the end of the commute you probably won’t still have that seat because all the people sitting in the disabled/pregnant lady seats refuse to give up their seat for people who are actually pregnant or disabled, so you will give up your seat to the 8-month pregnant lady or the elderly man who can hardly stand and has had to walk to the end of the carriage before anyone would kindly offer a seat.
Before you get on the train you might get punched in the head so hard you have a headache for two hours. The commuter may or may not notice he’s hit you as hard as he can in his rush to get to work.
This isn’t even taking into account the insane people who sometimes find their way into the London Underground. We’re talking about the people who growl like a tiger and stare at random people, the people who stare at £10 notes and continually punch themselves in the face, the people who sit there and cackle at nothing, the people who light up a cig and start cussing to no one.
I’m making the work commute sound bad. You don’t always sit by people like these. I like to think of these people as wild cards. There’s four in a deck, so you’re bound to draw one every few cards.
The worst time was when I saw a woman who looked like that fat zombie in the wheelbarrow in Dawn of the Dead:
Seriously. I’m not lying. She was that scary, and I was worried she’d turn into a zombie at any moment. She kept growling, had cuts and scabs all over her body and had no clue what was going on.
As long as you avoid rush hour or traveling in Central London on the weekend, you’ll be fine.
Don’t let this scare you out of coming to visit me. Please visit me. I like visitors.