It didn’t come as a shock to me how desperate and shameless people were when it came to public transport in London. A tube strike took place on the ninth of July and all underground trains were not running for twenty four hours or so. I had planned my journey from East Ham to Marble Arch rather well, or so I thought I had, in order to get to work on time. My cousins refer to East Ham as the slums of London, and I rather agree despite it being my home. Compared to where they live, East Ham is far from central London, the real city, and for me it takes an hour to get to places from my home whereas for them it would probably take them half that time. Unlucky me, eh? So, if it takes about an hour to get to Marble Arch from East Ham with the tube, imagine having to take the bus instead…
I left my house three hours early, forcing motivation with positive thoughts. This was a new experience! A longer journey in which I could read even more! I took a bus to Romford Road and then waited for a twenty-five bus, which would take me to Oxford Circus. I waited and waited and waited and quite a large crowd at the bus stop were doing the same. Many other busses roamed by and our heads slowly turned in sync as we longingly watched them passing. My earphones blocked out negative thoughts about me being late to work for a long while until the twenty-five bus finally arrived. It was like those boats that are overflowed with people illegally migrating from other countries. People were squeezed against the windows as if trying to look for air. And even then people got on the bus, forcing those already on to make space for them! There was no way I was getting on. I should just wait for the next one. But to be honest, I should have because I’m a pretty skinny guy and it wouldn’t have made much difference. Instead I let that one go and got onto a different bus that took me to Stratford. Stratford would have more options in terms of public transport. From there I took the Overground to Liverpool Street and, when I noticed the ridiculously large cue for the bus there, I walked it to Bank and managed to hop onto a bus from there. And from Oxford Circus I simply walked it to Marble Arch, arriving precisely one hour and fifteen minutes late. Throughout that journey all I could think about was imagine those vast crowds were zombies instead.
My manager didn’t seem to mind at all that I was late because everyone else who was working that day was also late. As I was bringing shoes to customers, recommending useless shoe care products and trying my best to sell handbags throughout the day, I was mentally preparing myself to finish an hour and fifteen minutes later than usual. That’s what they usually make us do when we’re late. But my manager came to me and said I could finish at the original time and will be paid as normal. Awesome!
I dived back into the crazy crowd that is London after my shift and thought of ways to get home. And then my phone rang. Remember Birthday Day Boy from my other post? Yes, it was him again.
Me: “Hello?”
Mizan: “Niyad, where are you?”
Me: “Marble Arch.”
Mizan: “Come nans, init. We’ll eat outside for Iftar.”
My nan lived in Brick Lane, which was much closer to Marble Arch than East Ham was. This sounded like a good idea because I wouldn’t have to go home at night using flooded busses, Mizan could just drive me home. Yes, he has a car. Lucky him, eh?
Me: “Alright, I’ll see you there.”
I seriously couldn’t look at another bus that day, and stood there wondering in what other way I could get to my nans. I surely couldn’t walk it unless I wanted my legs to die. Then I saw a woman freely speeding past a crowd of people at a bus stop on a red bike that had “Santander” written on it. The next thing I knew, I was cycling through busy roads, alongside cars and busses with a constant fear of crashing into them or them crashing into me! Renting a Boris Bike was much simpler than I thought, and it was just two pounds for twenty-four hours! So, I was steadily dashing through London, learning a few standard rules of the road by following other cyclists, and got to Shoreditch High Street, just off Brick Lane, in two hours. My thighs were pumping. But it was a great experience! I was so glad that I had undergone such a feat, even though a normal cyclist would’ve taken half the time to get from Marble Arch to Brick Lane. But that wasn’t the point. I had cycled on actual roads and successfully made it to my destination, to be rewarded with a Nandos for Iftar with my cousins. We’ve been a little too cheeky for our own good, haven’t we?
A shot I took with my iPhone 4 of the approaching sunset at the end of my cycling journey 🙂
That meal was sort of a birthday meal for me because I had only turned nineteen the day before. Nineteen! In another year I’m going to be twenty. I can’t imagine myself as a twenty year old… adult. It feels weird to think about it. However, this was the first birthday in which I worked. My work colleagues all said happy birthday to me, which made my heart sing. A Turkish lady I was serving that day even said I’m “very handsome”, which was a great birthday gift itself even though she didn’t know it was my birthday. Afterwards I met up with an old secondary school friend. I hadn’t properly seen him for many months because the course of our lives had moved in completely different directions. He has just finished his third year at college and I have just finished my first year at University. Incidentally, he applied to the very same Uni I’m attending! So, perhaps our paths were slowly turning back towards each other again. I did miss him dearly because he’s one of the very few people I can talk endlessly to about pretty much anything. I can be a quiet person if you meet me in person, something I rather despise myself for.
We watched Ted 2 and then discussed the many great moments in it, as we usually do when we go to the movies. Amongst all the jokes and laughter, we surprisingly we ended up having a rather serious talk. He has a medical condition to do with his kidney and unfortunately needs a new one. He’s been on a waiting list for a long time and has to go to the hospital every week for check-ups and many other things. I wondered if a life like that ever made him depressed. It’s an honest thought, right? I mean, I have moments where I’m deeply miserable despite my perfectly stable kidney. Considering my friend’s position, he must also have these moments, right? It’s so hard to tell because he’s so happy all the time. So, for the first time in our many years of friendship I confronted this and asked him. His response was simply that he saw many others at the hospital every time he went and was glad that his condition wasn’t worse. I need to surround myself more with positive minds like that.
kneeadd 