The stereotype doesn’t match the stereo type

On the London Underground there were two black guys stood not too far away from me, both dressed virtually identically and both with shaved heads.

They weren’t travelling together, yet they had both hit the stereotype perfectly on the head with their choice of attire, hairstyle (or lack of) and the fact they were both sporting red Dr.Dre Beats headphones.

They were both casually bopping their heads to whatever they were listening to.

RnB or Hip Hop probably.

Is that a bit presumptive?

(Well, stereotypes exist for a reason).

We all got off the train and headed for the lift (elevator) to the surface, packed in tighter than a takeaway carton at a buffet.

The headphone twins both adopted the stereotypical swagger of someone with one leg shorter than the other, holding up their jeans with one hand and showing us too much underwear.

Like all lifts (elevators), it was deathly silent as we ascended, despite there being approximately 25 people in there.  It was at this point I realised I could hear music coming from one of our ‘gangstas’.

In the silence I could make out what he was listening to.

Shirley Bassey.

will the fuck

Advertisements

Knowing Left from Right

Occasionally something really grits my shit, but it’s such a small thing that I just deal with it and get on with life.

Well, I can take it no more.

Why create headphones that make it virtually impossible to distinguish left from right?

image

Every day I struggle to see which is which.

I look like an idiot, squinting like I’m having a difficult and painful shit; holding them at just the right angle in the light to make out the letters vaguely embossed at the depth of an atom.

How hard would this be to do?

image

You took the time to colour them purple, you bastards.

Hypocritical?

Well done Dan, you successfully chose the only seat on this empty train opposite the only penis who has now decided to talk at length on his phone.

I was going to blog about him but decided against it. I didn’t want to point out that he looks like Harley from Rizzle Kicks but with geeky glasses (which I assume are intentional), cute little pink sparkly cross earrings and a high top fade in his head like Kid missing Play.

I’m also not going to ridicule the fact he’s wearing a colourful plaid shirt with the top button done up and his beanpole arms sticking out from rolled up sleeves.

And I am certainly not going to comment that he has the campest, most feminine voice I’ve ever heard and is talking to his ‘mummy’ about not returning to college or university (or some establishment of learning) because of the drama and stress.

No, I’m not going to do any of that.

And do you know why?

Because I realised, as I pulled my headphones out of my bag to drown him out, that my headphones are bright pink.

image

Epic rail fail

I’ve just seen a guy miss his train.

Was he running late, or dashing like a madman? No, he was actually early.

He was stood on the platform, headphones in his ears and reading the morning paper; positioned right at the very end of the platform, presumably to get on at the front of the train.

The train pulled in, everyone got on and the train pulled out. The thing is, the train had pulled in about 20 feet short of where he was standing, so he hadn’t seen or heard it.

He was about to.

As the train started to leave it trundled slowly past him. It was at this point he put the newspaper under his arm and prepared himself to board. It had then dawned on him this train wasn’t slowing down, it was speeding up.

He looked around, checking the boards, glaring at his watch and strutting around frantically as if it was somehow someone else’s fault.

No mate,  you really did just stand there like a twat and watch it leave all by yourself.

I think I may have seen one of the passengers waving at him.

Fantasy Vs. Reality – Part 3

I’ve noticed that people who wear headphones fall into two very distinct camps; those who just sit there listening to the music, and those who dance.  Now, when I say dance, I don’t mean literally strutting their funky stuff in the street or outside public toilets (those people are in a completely different camp of their own, complete with high gates and heavy medication).

No, I’m referring to those who move ever so slightly to the music; either slaloming their head from side to side for R&B, or nodding along to rock like they’re sucking off an ant.  If you look closely enough it’s often possible to see them mouthing the words.  I don’t mean full on singing; just mouthing.  The ones who sing are mentally unhinged and need avoiding at all costs. 

I had one of these singing idiots in a gym once; just him and me.  He was lifting these heavy weights and grunting (as you do), and then in between sets he was singing tonelessly along to something in a high drawn out wailing voice.  It was like working out with Moby fucking Dick.

The last two words there were intentional.

But back to the dancing…

Being a headphone user myself I fall into the ‘dancer’ category.  I often find myself moving my head to the ‘riddim’ and occasionally mouthing the words.  I’m even guilty of walking along the pavement in time to the music like some obnoxious musical, half expecting those around to suddenly fall in behind me for a big dance number.

Why do I do this?  What do I think I look like? 

Actually, I think I look cool. 

People look at me and I can see they’re thinking “Wow, that guy really knows his music, and he’s got rhythm.   Look, he even knows the words.  He’s SO cool”.  I’m cultured, hip and simply awesome.

However, when other people do it they look like total pricks.

Weird.

sing

Not so personal stereo

Sat on the train waiting for it to leave London Victoria station with my headphones in and playing a game on my phone.  

A woman sits opposite me, also with headphones in, and we exchange a glance that suggests a mutual appreciation of music on the move; or it could’ve been ‘what the fuck are you looking at pal?’

I’ve never been great at picking up these subtleties.  

Anyway, no more than a minute had passed when the man sat next to her tapped her on the shoulder and gestured that she should turn her music down.  

I took out my right earphone just in case she kicked off, which I didn’t want to miss. Plus it’ll give me something funny to blog. Alas, all I heard her say, with a smile, was “of course, no problem”.

Damn.

She then rolled her eyes, stood up, muttered ‘prick’ and moved to the next carriage.  

‘Thank you’, I thought, as I turned my music down.