My weird race from Liverpool Street to Hackney

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Sure to back home in less than 20mins last friday I got off the tube at Liverpool Street Station around midnight, so I had to decide to change for the Overground or an Uber call. I had had a busy day work and later I enjoyed some beers with my collegues in Soho.

Hungry like a wolf I got out the station to get a burrito to KFC, conscious to be too drunk and lazy to cook at home.

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I went to have the delicious wrap far from the crowd, seat on the benches stone in the street so finally planning to call Uber to get home. I knew that Rosco, the French Bulldog was alone at home for more than 18 hours. He was waiting for food and probably he was more hungry than me, I had to be quick.

At that time most of the people which walked around the station was totally drunk, more than me. In less than 5 mins you can enjoy a big show in all the area.

A girl in her 20 asked for help to 2 guys because his boyfriend was stalking and shouting her; a man wich doesn’t have the effort to walk was stilling at him the beer which he was trying to drink from a can, three asiatic girls were singing undertone an indefinite song, a tall handsome guy bended in four paws was retching in a corner while his friends were laughing and filming him with their mobile and a big man plastered from gin get off a bus in front of me. He was holding in the hand a bottle of gin and from the bus the driver was shouting him something. He walked scattering toward me so got a seat close to me offering a gulp of gin and asking for a cigarette. “I payed for her” he told me while his eyes were in the nowhere. “I payed the bus for her, and they get me off! Do you understand bro?” So he stand up and drinking a drop of gin he screamed: “Bitch! Fucking bitch!”. He walked for about three steps, so he stopped and he fell to the ground chattering something.

My attention was to the girl who asked for help so I reached the two guys and I asked them if we could go to help her. They got better than me that the couple was arguing drunk and there were nothing dangerous about it. The couple walked without a properly direction so after a while the man took her hands and they got a bloody kiss. What a strange love!

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I was exhausted of all so I took my mobile booking for a Uber but while the driver was reaching me my battery die down. Upset I walked toward the station to get a train but it had been closed ten minutes before, so defeat and angry I tryied to looking for a taxi but all the cabs around there were busy. I tryied to stop every taxi in the street but anyone stopped at my call, I tryied to go behind the building where there is the taxi station but there were a queue of people for about one hour. I didn’t lost any hopes so I tryied to go in Wormwood St, where there is less traffic than the main street but anyone taxi stopped at my call again. I went back to the main street trying again to stop a taxi but every taxi was busy. I stopped around the crowd taking a breath, I was tired and furious. I decided to walk towards Shoreditch where probably could be find a cab not busy as the station area. Once in Shoreditch High Street I found a man with an advert billboard for minicabs telephone number which told me that if couldn’t call it I should get the road ahead toward Brick Lane and reach the head office to book a minicab. I walked for about ten minutes as far as I was across Brick Lane and finally I found it. A skinny indian man sitting on a desk ask for my journey 12£ but they didn’t accept card so I got out to the cashpoint to get it but when I went back to the office with money the skinny man told me that it was fully booked and he had no more drivers for my journey. He was kidding me?

I got so furious and demoniac that I got out the office slamming the door and telling bad and vulgar words that I steady to repeat while I walked on my way to back in Shoreditch High Street. I became the same sort of crazy man as everyone was walking around the streets. I was part of the friday night crowd. My steps were determined, my rage was extremily on overload. I was walking as a dead man between a crowd of drunks, junkies, alcoholics, lovers for nothing, girls with makeup dissolved down their faces, I walked in clouds smells of weed, whilst sometimes I was forced to look for a space on the pavement to overpass queue or overcrowd at every discobar, pub or kebab shop.

In Hackney road I got the bus 55; It was full of the same sort of people as before, someone was singing undertone, someone was shoutering, someone was laughing and chattering loud. I got my seat on the upperdeck of the bus in the second raw next to the main window.

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Before me, sitting on the first raw on the seat with streetview there were on the left side a fatty boy with greasy hairs in his about 25 with a big grey jacket and a pair of thick glasses. On his next right was sitting a skinny suicidal blonde girl of about the same age who dressed a green short skirt; she had her legs spread on the windowsill. Probably they never met before, was evident by their speeches that they met on the bus during the journey.

When I took a seat I felt anger about my last hour, but trying to calm my nervous I had to get out of my mind everything was happened so I start to listen them. They were chatting about the London night-life. He was telling her that he had never had any interest for the night life.

BOY: ..tonight was a special event, I never go out in the night. I’d been forced to take part at the party but now I’m happy to back home. Usually I don’t like live the night, neither socialize. I tell you better, I don’t like live the night outdoor because I love the night, just with myself. Most of the time I still awake to play my sax, to read books, to write something, or listening Chet Baker, Mile Davis, Duke Ellington and more. They’re the best of Jazz or if you know about it you could know that they’re the best of Cool Jazz.

 

GIRL: Oh no! I don’t know anything about jazz, but I never had any interest about this kind of music, if I have to be sincerly I find the jazz really boring. What I’m really scared tonight is that for sure I will not get asleep, I’m not ready to go to bed.

The fatty boy didn’t get the opportunity that she was give him. Too much jazz in his ears, too many things to write in his mind.

B: Write! Write something if you don’t get asleep! The best way to live our life is to write everynight so nothing will be lost. One of the XXth century big poet is Pessoa. He said in Chevalier de Pas which he spent most of the time of his entire life to write about love and one day he has discovered that he wrote so much about love wich cuddle a woman was most better than every sort of all his writes but if he didn’t write about it he could never knew that. I write, a write a lot in the night. I write of everything I see or everything I feel.

She was watching him as a gazelle watch a donkey. She was hot, but he was chattering in the nowhere hiding that the topic was love, and the opportunity to get a woman was in front of him. Seems which he preferred write about love instead to do it. As chevalier de Pas use to do.

She turn her face to watch outside and bored said: “You are an interesting man. You know so much, you are a man of culture.”

B: Yeah, I know. A lot of people say me that. How can I tell you, I came from a noble family, all of us are interesting.

After that the suicidal girl lost totally interests for him but she gave him a new opportunity. He watched her dead mobile and said: “Groan, if my mobile was working now I knew how is my bus stop to change.”

B: I told you. Hackney Central. So you can change and get on 277. Try to switch on your mobile now. It will work for sure.

She switch on her mobile, and it went back to life.

G: Woow! How is possible?

B: The electrons get excited with warm so they can take some power.

G: Ah Cool! So this is my bus stop. Has been nice to met you. Bye.

B: Bye.

The fatty boy didn’t ask her for contacts, didn’t watch her in her eyes when she got off. He watched outside the window.

There were someone more loser than me, I thought, he will a loser for his entire life, I’d been just for tonight.

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The next one was my bus stop in Narrow Way. He got off as well but looks wasn’t really his bus stop. Was 2.30am Dalston Lane was a dark and desert road deep in the fog. He took a seat on the bus stop bench, as to stopped him and think about what was happened. I walked beyond him. He didn’t pay me attention. I saw him watching in the fog.

I walked home. Rosco, was starved at home, alone for a long time. A huge and massive quantity poo of Rosco was waiting for me.

And that’s was true and that’s what I found it.

 

2 thoughts on “My weird race from Liverpool Street to Hackney

  • drayasattic.com

    Liverpool Street Station not only brings in the commuters, but has also historically been the place to get a train out to the seaside and other eastern UK tourist spots like Southend and Norwich.

    Rispondi
    • Martino Serra

      Hi man I hope you are well, yeah you said right! Thank you for your comment 😀

      Rispondi

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