London has its surprises. One of them I discovered was bonhomie and let’s-indulge-in-subversion generosity. In the evening I casually placed my travel card on the reader at Green Park station to find that my funds had been depleted. With a long face I stood at the counter where you get your card recharged. The ipod drumming music in my ears, and my mind muttering lots of unkind words to the fumbling long queue in front of me. I sense a hand poking my shoulder.
I turn and a grinning man hands me a day ticket (the kinds that you buy for an entire day) and I looked confused. I said “But that’s not mine, I didn’t drop anything.” Man’s grin spills wider, threatening to hook on his ears. Man says “Yes! So just go on. Am going home now.”
In the split second that I understand that he was giving his (no longer needed) ticket to a grouchy woman in the queue, he runs off waving a hand and grinning all the way out. Two seconds later, I grin.
Wendigo a few days back looked at me with disgust reserved for only a few, saying I had bought into the culture of divided spaces by getting myself an ipod. Well, apparently spaces can be eaten into even with headphones on.