The Commute

There is a man who stands on the other platform, the one where the trains just speed past, and he wears a high viz vest and has a partner. He looks Nepalese. I think it’s his job to stop people throwing themselves in front of the trains as they speed past. Persuade them to get onto the train to Reading instead.

I wonder how you might go about persuading someone that Reading was the better option. Particularly someone like me, who is here every morning in the sodium lit drizzle. It would be even harder if that person believed in reincarnation or some kind of raucous afterlife. Valhalla perhaps, drinking beer with Vikings for all eternity, like some kind of never ending Oktoberfest. Or even if they just believed in oblivion. Relaxing oblivion. Eternal sleep… I swayed towards tracks and imagined the soft velvety darkness that might await me if I ran over and jumped at just the right time.

Anyway, that was what I was thinking about when the dragon arrived. It was not what I was expecting at 06:32 in Ealing Broadway station, but I tried to take it in my stride.

Honestly it was hard not to stare, but my fellow commuters were doing a decent job of it. They kept their eyes on their phones or their heads inside their copies of the metro and continued to shuffle towards their various trains and tut if anyone took too long to get their oyster cards ready for the barriers.

I tried to follow suit, just taking the occasional glance as I pretended to look at train times but I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. The dragon was about 2 stories high and its wings looked like folded up festival tents. It was scaly all over and looked wet like a snake does. Each nostril was as big as a dinner plate and steam, or maybe smoke, puffed out of them.

I don’t come from London. Who does? And when I first moved here I found it really weird that no-one ever spoke to each other on the tube. Eventually though, I got used to it and now the thought of some morning breathed stranger trying to speak to me on the way to work is truly horrifying.

But a dragon though. A DRAGON.

I walked over.

“Let’s sack this shit off and go for a joy ride.” It spoke in the voice of my little sister.

“Fuck it. Alright.” I scrambled up onto her back. “I’m David by the way.”

“Puff. Nice to meet you,” she said and we flew off.