A funny thing happened on the way to the Underground

Funny, that is, for all those around me who witnessed it. Let’s begin the recap of my day…

London has this strange way of always looking like it just rained. You hardly ever see the rain, but the ground seems to hold this moistness that makes you grateful for your timely departure, like, “SCORE, I just missed the storm, this is going to be my lucky day!” So today began just like that. I get to the tube, my feet still damp from “the last hour’s” rainstorm, I make it to the bottom of my first flight of stairs, my shoes lose all traction, and there I go Kristi Yamaguchiing my way across the station only to land on my right shoulder, cushioned by my rather large purse. And the kicker…no one said a word! I mean I’m sure they all continued on their way to work and told the best water cooler story ever once they got there, but come on!! Granted I probably said some American profanity under my breath that completely ruined my guise as just another Brit on their way to work, but still! No one moved an inch to help remove me and my, then soaked, leather bag from the floor. I think it’s time I invest in some Wellies (Christmas present idea number 1).

I successfully made it through the rest of the day on my feet, put in a hard day’s work and was ready to head home. Completely engrossed in my 3^rd book since I’ve been here (Christmas present idea number 2), I was rounding the corner following my “Way Out” crew and it hit me! Running full speed, same height, same blindness to the crowds, only with eyes for minding the gap and making the train, a Brit…and we smacked right into each other, face to face. If it weren’t for my complete devotion to the latest twist in my book we would have landed mouth to mouth. Thank you Kindle, wasn’t really feeling like crossing off “make out with complete stranger in tube station” from my list.  

Just when I wanted nothing more than to be home, the last incident of the evening occurred. Fighting the crowd to get up and out with my newfound aggression, taking pointers from my mystery makeout man, I found my way to the front of the queue. Now, escalator rules are very strict here. It’s always stand on the right, walk on the left. No exceptions. 

So off I go, passing the long train of people standing on the right. I can’t help it but every time I choose to be one of the up-walkers rather than the standers I have this unwarranted sense of pride and accomplishment. Almost self righteous in that I am getting a workout while these lazy people just watch. (On the flip side when I am on the right, all I think is “Overachievers!”) So, nearing the top I think I’ve made it, and I’ve beat all those standers who didn’t even know they were in competition with me, and BAM! I trip over my own two feet and put myself right back at the scene of the crime from the morning, people stepping over me as they go.

Made my way straight to the pub for a well-deserved pint.

English word of the day: Pinched = Stole! So one of my colleagues came by the other day to discuss a marketing plan for one of our new data cube products. We had been discussing getting branded Rubix Cubes and he said he found one at a corporate event so he pinched it to show me. I was not sure how pinching something can help show it to me, what kind of metaphor was that? Like pinch me, to make sure I'm not dreaming? Pinch the cube to make sure it's real? Low and behold, he takes me to his office and showed me the cube in the flesh, which apparently he STOLE from the event! Got it now.