I was standing wedged betwixt other commuters when, at Deansgate, the lone Glaswegian embarked, singing, nay shouting John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’, spitting and waving and mouthing and cackling in people’s faces. He mocked a young man for his gelled hair and started to poke at it, saying that men shouldn’t style their hair. The Glaswegian was demanding attention and conversation from people that were used to remaining silent, he became more aggressive. I said to him:
“You were just promoting peace, saying that we should all live in harmony, so it shouldn’t matter to you if people use gel in their hair”.
He liked this, he unveiled my head that had been covered by the fur-lined hood of my parka and I protested. He asked me if I’d like to go for a drink and I declined saying:
“I’ve got a fella at home waiting for me and you’ve probably got a wife and kids”.
He said that he wasn’t married, though he had twice proposed to women in leap years. He persisted and I resisted, saying:
“I’m sure you’ll have a nice time yourself having a drink and you might meet somebody there”. At this his one real blue eye turned savage and he shouted,
“Are you trying to belittle me? Are you saying that I need to meet somebody, I don’t need to meet somebody”.
I was slightly scared by this turn of events, and the lack of support from other commuters, so attempted to dispel the situation by telling him that I hadn’t meant to anger him and didn’t understand why he had flipped so quickly. He calmed, asked my name, shook my hand and, as I disembarked, shouted after me:
“Leah, marry me, I love you!”
Leah blogs here: leah-leaf.blogspot.com