Tuesday, 22 January 2008

Overheard in...: The Tube

The "Overheard In..." category for the blog recalls snippets of conversation I happened to stumble across that for some reason stand out as indicative of cultural differences, or cultural issues I'm trying to understand. (And all subtly prove that reality is stranger than fiction.)
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The Setting:
A quiet Saturday morning, around 9am, on the Jubilee line tube between Finchley Road and Bond Street.

The Characters (4): (1 and 2) A couple in their sixties, presumably English-- neatly dressed-- him in trousers and a button down shirt and sweater, she with died brown hair and well-applied makeup; (3) a man in his forties, also presumably English, thickish glasses, straight gray hair, casually dressed; (4) me.

The Scene:
The 60-something man and woman are reading a newspaper, which they’ve split between them. The woman has a facial twitch of some sort. Every so often, her face and neck just out oddly and then go back to normal for about ten to fifteen seconds.

The woman has a nice leather bag with different colors of leather diamond shaped patches sewn together. She rifles through the bag fumbling for something and her hand shakes a bit. Every so often she also asks a question to her husband, analyzing something concerning going in the news, that I can’t quite hear.

The train stops at Bond Street and the couple fold up their newspapers and get up to leave. They don’t move quickly but get off the train. The 40-something aged man who was sitting across from them notices they’ve left their umbrella.

40-something man: (shouting to outside the train) Your umbrella!

60-something woman: (shouting in) What?

40-something man: Your umbrella.

He stands up and realizes quickly that he can’t get off the train or it will leave without him. So he grabs it and throws it to her right before the door begins to close. It lands on the floor on the platform outside the train.

60-something woman: Thank you. Thank you very much, indeed!

(Door closes).

40-something man nods and smiles. But the smile, the smile… the smile is one of the loveliest I have seen in a long time. It is broad but not self-satisfied. Genuine. He holds it on his face for a few seconds after the door closes. Such a beautiful, beautiful smile. An expression on his face as if to say, “Yes, of course. That’s what we’re all really for here at the end of the day, isn’t it?”

And the fourth character, me… I found myself smiling also, on the other end of the train carriage. Because—basically—that is what we’re here for, right?

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