8 February 2008
Freak Show
Three freaks collide disastrously on the 2130 from Westbury.
Public transport is like a traveling freak show. The only freak show that operates all year round, where the price of entry is the price of your train fare. Everyone on board plays their own part.
I realise this while sat on the 2130 from Westbury, destined for London Paddington, currently at a standstill between Pewsey and Newbury, my destination. The three people in my carriage would all make excellent contributions to any freak show.
Act One of tonight’s show, The Amazing Bottled Blonde, makes her entrance. She stumbles out of her seat, tripping over her high heels, her tube top slipping low enough to leave little to the imagination, and belches. “Heyyyy, train man!” she slurs, “Whywestop?” Her hair is matted to her forehead by sweat, and her bottle of cheap wine is more on the floor than it is in the bottle.
The poor man tells her “we’ve stopped for a cow, love”. I consider asking if the cow missed its stop, but choose to maintain what I hope is dignified silence. She’s not the only drunk person on this train.
Apparently satisfied, the blonde falls back into her seat. As if synchronised for maximum entertainment value, the second act of the freak show tumbles into the carriage just as she vomits into her own lap.
A tall, bald man, wearing a leather coat stolen from the set of The Matrix has just crashed through the carriage doors, tripping over his floor-length coat, sending the guitar he was carrying halfway up the aisle. Loudly, he swears, and his face turns ashen. Then I realise his face is actually that colour. Footloose retrieves his guitar, and finds a seat. Somehow, his face gets even more pale when he sees the mess the blonde has made of herself. But it doesn’t stop him leering at her breasts.
As we pull into Newbury, the third and final act of the show stands up, falls over, and stands up again, then begins swaying towards the doors of the carriage. He walks straight into the door and his head bounces off the plexiglass window. These doors don’t open automatically. Having managed to get the doors open, he trips out of the door, and finds himself bathed in orange streetlight. As the train pulls away, he realises he’s lost a shoe and his bag, and they’re still on the train.
Walking home with one shoe, nursing a sore head, I realise I’ve just starred in the 2130 from Westbury Freak Show. And I didn’t even get paid.