Although I am a rude man on stage and on my podcasts I attempt to live my life as politely as possible (with varying degrees of success). We had been to the theatre tonight and on the walk up to the tube station I was slightly annoying my wife with my willingness to get out of the way of other pedestrians. "Why is it always us that has to move?" she asked, perhaps not unreasonably, given most other pedestrians arrogantly didn't seem to give a fuck about anyone else's lives. But I don't see it as weakness to be the one who makes the space. I'd rather be polite and helpful as possible, even to selfish idiots, because the only other response is to become selfish and then you're just adding to the problem and we end up in a world where everyone is a cunt. If just one rude person notices my politeness (which to be fair, they don't seem to be doing) and decides to make an effort themselves then we're moving back towards a world where no one is rude (though I suspect a world where everyone is considerate and keen to assist others might be just as chaotic with no one able to get anywhere because they're all continually stepping aside for each other).
My wife thinks I am a dick, but a lot of people thought that about Jesus. I am not saying I am him, even if you might think that. But I wish he'd thought to make more pronouncements on the etiquette of walking and motorway driving.
I felt quite good about myself and the fact that I am usually aware enough to be looking ahead for possible problems and moving well in advance. Surely my wife's philosophy could only lead to unpleasant confrontations or at least bruises from bumping.
But pride is a sin and one I would be punished for by the sitcom Gods that rule my life, because my (fake) humble piety was about to be shown up in an hilarious "cut to".
When we got to the tube platform, a train had just arrived and a surprisingly large amount of passengers were getting off and exiting by the tunnel that we were entering through. They were largely on our right, so we kept to the left. Which would have been fine, but a group of three people (an older woman and two teenagers that I am assuming were her kids) were sitting on the benches. This wouldn't have been a problem, but they'd just been shopping and had their bags placed at their feet. Although there was room to tuck them in, parallel to the seat, they had decided instead to dump them in front of them, sticking out perpendicular to the seat. And on top of that the girl's bag had what looked like an umbrella handle slanting out of the top of the bag, increasing the width even further. They comfortably filled the half of the platform that was not full of exiting passengers. A decent human being might have spotted that they were being selfish and attempted to move the bags. This family did not do so. I attempted to get passed the obstacle, but predictably my trouser leg caught the umbrella handle and slightly jostled the girl's bag.
"Don't you have eyes!?" the surly girl barked at me angrily. I have to say this somewhat irked me. I thought if she said anything it might have been "Oh sorry, I didn't realise my bags were in everyone's way." So, "Don't you have eyes?" was unexpectedly unapologetic.
"Yes, I do," I replied, "couldn't you see that your bags were in people's way? Don't you have any concept that other people have to use this space as well?"
I don't fully remember what happened next as it all erupted quite quickly, but the whole family joined in, lambasting me and we had a heated discussion about who was in the right and who was in the wrong here. The young man was particularly outspoken, but slight and weedy and the mother just as rude, so you could see where these horrible youngsters had got their sense of entitlement. I had gone a few yards up the platform, but turned to address their concerns and to let them know that this issue was their fault not mine. "Your bags are filling half the platform"
"How are we supposed to stop that?" asked the mother.
I turned back and walked towards them. A smiley faced man who had nothing to do with this, but had seen the incident, seeing the fury in my face, advised me to turn back. I ignored his advice, though gave him a knowing smile. I grabbed the bag. "Don't touch my stuff," screeched the girl. "I have to to show you what you're supposed to do." I turned the bag 90 degrees and pushed it against the seat. Perhaps they weren't rude, they just had no idea that things could be turned.
I walked away again, but the young man kept screeching at me and castigating me and refusing to take any responsibility for the incident. I very much felt like turning round again and punching him in the face or stamping on their bags until everything in them broke. The smiley faced man looked sympathetic to me and his smiley face helped to convince me not to. Given my opponents were two women and a quite effeminate boy I think it would have looked bad if I'd gone back in there all guns blazing. It's not in my nature to punch people, but I really, really wanted to in that moment.
I walked away with my wife a bit shell-shocked beside me. "Is that what you wanted?" I asked. She laughed.
