I nearly spoke out on the Underground beneath London today.
After being pushed this way and that over the previous twenty minutes I found myself stood in the middle of the carriage. I always stand in order to let women take the seats, which invariably means you step back and forth while letting people on and off the train. Underground train passengers seem to have a habit of crowding the doors - so the best place to stand is in the center of the carriage - as far from the doors as possible.
I digress.
An empty seat happens to be available to my side. A pretty girl gets on and spots it. Although she is pretty, you only have to watch her body language for a moment to realise that she is aloof, and loves herself to pieces. She sits down, and proceeds to pull a magazine from the middle of her newspaper - leaving the rest of the newspaper to fall onto the floor, and across my feet.
I couldn’t believe it.
When we reached Liverpool Street (the next stop, and where I depart), I bent down, picked the newspaper up off of her and my feet, folded it up, and placed it on the shelf opposite. I then shook my head and walked off the train.
Everybody saw me do it. I wonder how many of them wished they had?