Tonight was a particularly interesting train journey home.
I was sitting there watching cartoons on my phone (Rockin’ Dungeons & Dragons retro stylee.) when i could feel the prescence of someone stood over me. I looked up and there was this guy, mid 50s, newspaper in hand, wearing glasses and a weird grin.
I removed my headphones.
‘Excuse me, i’m a bit blind and I cant read this article; only the headline”, he said holding open the newspaper at the sports section.
“Would you read it to me?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?? Go bother someone else you weirdo!” (I wish I’d said).
“Of course” (I actually said).
He sat down and I began to read an article to him about tennis players Ana Ivanovic and one of the Williams sisters. I think it was Serena; it could’ve been the other guy.
He interrupted me.
“I dont know if youre into tennis or not…”
“…but Ivanovic is very easy on the eye” (said the blind man)
I know. There was a picture of her with the article.
He probably didn’t know that.
“And Williams is a muscly butch nigger”
“Whoah, easy now!”, I said quickly and loudly; nervously aware we hadn’t long passed East Croydon.
I looked around the carriage for anyone who might think I somehow knew this blurry eyed twat.
He apologised, and then proceeded to tell me about how he’d been accused of racial abuse despite having been married to a white woman, a black woman and a half cast (mixed race actually) woman, even though this racial slur had been against an Irish person, which he”d found strange, and that he’d been bitten by a spider in spain over 6 years ago which had caused him to lose his sight, but it’s got better now, although his peripheral vision on his right side wasn’t great, and he used to be quite rich but his ‘friends’ sold all his stuff which he’d signed off on because it was when he’d lost his marbles and now he didn’t have money but that’s OK because money doesn’t really make a difference in life really.
“So….shall I continue reading?”, I asked.
“Oh there’s more?”
I’m afraid so.
I finished the article and handed the newspaper back to him in a ‘there you go, please go away now’ manner.
He didn’t leave.
He then told me about his love for chess, and that he was a member of the Crawley chess club. In fact he’d been playing tonight, although nowadays he can’t differentiate one piece from the other. At times he couldn’t remember mid match if he was white or black. It seems this is a reoccurring issue for bigot boy.
Thankfully his station came up and the racially dubious mole eyed weirdo THEN introduced himself and proceeded to get off the train.
Did I mention I boarded the train tonight, threw my arms in the air and screamed “COME TO ME, FREAKS AND WEIRDOS OF THE NIGHT!”?
Maybe I should’ve opened with that.