It�s not the city, but the rush-hour
March 29, 2004 ~ 5:39 p.m.
I woke up with an excruciating headache this morning. It was so bad that I had to take half-a-day�s sick leave. It was the last thing I wanted to do, owing to stomach upsets in the past which have already caused me to rack up a considerable absence record, but I couldn�t even open my eyes all the way.
I took four Neurofen tablets�ibuprofen mixed with codeine�and slept for another two hours, then called my boss and let him know that I�d be in at 1:30 p.m. I caught the 12:27 train into London Victoria.
London takes on a whole new ambience after the rush hour. The train in was like no train I�d ever ridden on before (well, like no South Central train I�d ever ridden on before). It was clean�both the floor and the seats�which I attributed to the fact that the train must have been pretty new, and the intercom wasn�t scratchy and/or barely audible nor deafening.
Victoria Station was manageable and the subway ride was a breeze. No having to duck and weave my way through a hurried, angst-ridden crowd; nobody got in my way. No being packed in like sardines in a tin; I could actually get a seat on the subway. Everything seemed, well, in a word� nice.
Which leads me to conclude this: It�s not the city that gets me. It�s the rush-hour madness. I�m sure the trip home will prove that, as I expect it to resemble my trip into work today in no conceivable way.
� M.E.M.
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Copyright � 2001-2007 by M.E. Manning. All material is written by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise by use of footnotes or bylines. Do not copy or redistribute without my permission.
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