As the train moved away the station guard seemed to be offering me advice, I smiled at him politely until I realised his advice was less than useless as he suggested I move away from the front doors and further down the platform. "It opens to the exit of my station, it'll take me to right by the ramp so I get get out of the station easier" I claimed, he offered in response that "everyone wants to be at the front, what if there's prams, or bikes, or four other people have suitcases?" His accent was the thick Irish I have to pay close attention to to understand with my genetic bad hearing and the trains coming and going. "It's fine, trust me I do it all the time." He shook his head and walked away still muttering about suitcases and prams.
The train arrived promptly after and I got into position to let people off and get on as quickly as possible, all Londoners know this trick well and usually it works but my plan was scuppered. Large French family, 9 or so kids who I couldn't count due to them constantly moving between three mothers who didn't realise it was up to them to teach their children the manners it would help to stop receiving death stares while vacationing.
They jumped on, tiny legs becoming ever so close to the wheels of my suitcase, and scarpered to find any remaining seats to take up although they could have easily fit two to each seat. I claimed my orange checkered throne with many bags in tow and started the disdainful tutting that tourists may mistake for birds in neighbouring trees. There are no trees in that station.
I recounted the strange semi argument with the station guard and wondered if he had somehow foretold that the annoyance would not come from being able to get on and off the train, but just using the train itself.
Eventually it came to my stop, and theirs.
As they took forever to use the station barriers going through in clumps at a time I lost any patience I may have had left, they crowded around walking down the street I was also walking down, children running back and forth while the mothers gossiped about whatever French film star is the latest worth gossiping about.
My thoughts turned to the fire sticks and fuel in my suitcase and wondered if now was the time to start fire breathing, clearing myself a path and gaining myself murder or GBH charges for at least 12 people, but soon I was free as they had gathered confused about directions outside the one pub you probably wouldn't gather at if you knew the area at all, and I broke free. Almost home.