Once the dead weight had alighted the train, the slow motion pushing and shoving began, only to be met with the one fucking twat who still hasn’t disembarked the train. The train pulled alongside the platform, the doors opened and we all started to habitually scowl at the people getting off the train.Ī scowl that basically says, ‘hurry the fuck up’. It was the usual scenario of pushing and squashing to get prime position on the platform for the opening doors.
#CONJURE COFFEE COMMUTE FULL#
The London Underground is a busy place at rush hour crammed full of people from every walk of life and in every shape, size and colour.Ī few days ago I was on the platform at London Victoria underground station awaiting the next sardine tin to arrive and whisk us away.
I waited 5 minutes after I was finished before leaving the cubicle. My arse decided to sound like the final squeeze of a ketchup bottle. There was a pause and all that could be heard were three streams of piss on porcelain. I started clenching and relaxing at the same time. I just had to make sure I didn’t make too much noise as it was very quiet in there. I went into the first cubicle, locked the door (although it made no difference to my privacy with the gaps around the door) and dropped my shorts for the big performance.
No problem, this was going to be a sit down performance anyway. I walked in and there were two empty cubicles (or ‘stalls’) along with three urinals, all of which were occupied. So I hobbled to the ‘Restroom’ to do anything but rest. My wife and I were in a mall in Vegas shortly after breakfast and, as we meandered around the shops I didn’t recognise, I suddenly felt the playdough effect kicking in. Then the lights turned green and the traffic started to move.Īs I approached the puddle of coffee I decided to drive around it, no longer concerned about the level of inebriation of the driver, but by the fact the ‘coffee’ appeared to have some lumps of – I want to say – carrot? That made more sense as I could see there was a little bit of steam rising from the dark puddle of questionable fluid slowly spreading out across the road.
#CONJURE COFFEE COMMUTE DRIVER#
Then it occurred to me that maybe the driver hadn’t been sick at all, but had simply dumped out their coffee cup. What concerned me the most was that I was worried more about rolling my tyres through their previous evening’s poor fast food choices than the fact the driver might still be drunk. Then again, this is Las Vegas during the days between Christmas and New Year, so I suppose it’s not that unusual, right? There is a lot of drinking going on around this time.
After a few minutes the driver in front of me opened their 1 car door and appeared to vomit directly onto the tarmac. There were three or four cars in front of me as we all sat there for around half an hour waiting for the fucking lights to go green. This was unusual because, oh…wait…no it wasn’t. On the drive into work this morning, I was stopped at a red light.
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