Today I encountered a mentally unbalanced man at my local train station. His head was adorned with the largest headphones I’ve ever seen. He was singing at the top of his lungs and gyrating like a dog on heat. Ever so often, he would twitch and itch like a crack head gone cold turkey. Or maybe he’s plagued by an illness of sorts. Whatever the case, he was more than a little frightening.
I should have been scared but I wasn’t. I was fascinated…and jealous. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to sing and dance on that very platform but chickened out for fear of making a fool of myself?! Some days I sit on the train listening to songs that make me want to throw my hands in the air, wriggle my hips and drop down and get my eagle on.
I never have.
I’m much too reserved and self conscious for that. My dear friend Stinkus on the other hand is seriously lacking in decorum. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen her aim her invisible machine gun, open her mouth and drop down in a public space. The girl is an embarrassment to me.
I envy her lack of inhibition though.
For example, I’m standing in front of a hairless man on the train at the moment. There isn’t a single strand of hair on his head. I kid you not. I’m dying to rub his head but something tells me he won’t be amused.
There’s another guy sitting in front of me wearing a shirt that is buttoned up to his eyebrows. He looks like an inmate in an asylum. I just want to undo a few buttons and tell him to relax a little.
The woman next to him is carrying a handbag the size of a black bin liner. There’s also a giant rucksack nestled between her legs. I desperately want to ask her what kpanti (junk) she’s logging around London in rush hour.
The guy standing next to me is reading a book. He’s wearing really thick gloves though so each time he tries to turn a page, wahala (trouble). Have you ever tried to turn a page while wearing thick gloves? It makes zero sense. My friend take the thing off and stop elbowing me! I can’t say that though. I have to smile politely and say ‘it’s okay,’ each time he assaults me.
Whose idea was this decorum thing?! Sigh.