No, not me. Had one of those commute’s this morning where everything worked against me. Not only did I oversleep due to not feeling well (I’ve caught Jo’s cold) but when I got to the station I couldn’t catch the train I wanted as it was running late and I would miss my connection. So I ended up waiting on the platform for an extra fifteen minutes for the direct service and faced the thick end of being nearly an hour late for work.
When I arrived at Stratford, it had become even hotter outside which is great if you are spending the afternoon in the garden but not if you have to wait on the platform for the DLR for another seven minutes. All was well and good at this point as I continued to watch Clerks on my Video iPod, which I had ripped from my DVD copy last night, until we reached a station around All Saints where we just sat there. Apparently the train in front had broken down and we were going to be stuck there for some time.
At this point we get to the subject of this little blog entry. A mouth-breathing young man with a shaved head dressed in a trackie top, jeans and sandals got on and sat next to me. This wasn’t a problem except he reeked of weed and I don’t mean a little. He could have felled cattle with his stench. It certainly made me retch when he first sat down. He’d clearly been enjoying his morning with Mary Jane as he started grinning around the carriage like a buffoon, giggling at the adverts on the walls. Again, more amusing than anything, as I continued to watch Clerks (which he noticed as he peered over my shoulder).
Then he coughed.
Without covering his mouth.
A small wad of phlegm flew out of his mouth and landed on my hand.
I duly pulled a face that looked like I had sucked the world’s largest lemon and glared at him as I looked for somewhere to wipe it off. He just looked at me without apologising, mouth open and eyes vacant.
That was enough for me at this point and I duly got up and moved to the doors to get some fresh air and remove myself from the target zone of his projectile coughing. He then proceeded to yell at the Passenger Agent to get a move on despite the announcement that the train in front had broken down and we would be another ten minues or so, before checking that his lump of weed resin was still in his pocket and returning to his grinning and giggling.
I ignored him and returned to Clerks from the safety of the door well, but not before surreptitiously taking his photo……