Look out, David Letterman...

I spend an exorbitant amount of time on the London Underground. I will readily admit that. It's not something I particularly enjoy, but because a) I live too far away to walk a lot of places, b) I refuse to constantly consult a map to figure out a new way to get somewhere when I already know one, c) the bus still kinda weirds me out, and d) especially lately, it's TOO BLOODY COLD OUTSIDE, I find myself quite the frequent patron of the beloved (or be-hated, depending on the day) "Tube."

I say all of this to say that, for better or worse, I have had plenty of occasion to observe and/or critique people's behavior on the trains. My assessment? I think Emily Post would be appalled. Granted, when you corral the roughly 13 million people who live in the metropolitan London area onto train cars built to hold about 50 people each every day, you're bound to run into some problems. But there are problems, and then there's the stuff that I witness all too often. Some of it's funny, some of it's distubring, some of it's rude, and some of it's just plain annoying, but I suppose it all bears mentioning. As 'civilized' humans (whatever that means...), I'd like to think that this stuff is common sense, but every day it becomes more and more apparent that, at least to some people, it isn't. To that end, I present my Late Show-esque "Top Ten Rules for Using the London Underground."

1. If there is one crucial rule with which to familiarize oneself before joining the ranks of those filing through the tunnels of the Underground, it is this one very simple (and not so subtle...there are signs everywhere) request: PLEASE, for the love of God, slower traffic keep to the right. This goes for the escalators going up and down into the tunnels (if you want to be a lazy bum and stand still instead of walking, whatever...just kindly move over so those of us who are not opposed to physical activity can get where we're going), as well as walking through the tunnels themselves. If you want to stroll along with the urgency of a drugged Galapagos Tortoise, be my guest...just do it on the right side of the walkway. This theory becomes somewhat irrelevant when encountering a walkway that houses two-way traffic, when all hell breaks lose and it's every man for himself, but the basic concept remains the same. Just please, don't be The Oblivious Moron holding up the whole procession because you'd rather not get your heart rate above 60.

2. Also imperative in ensuring that we keep things moving along at an acceptable pace is this rule: do not, under any circumstances, stop as soon as you go through the turnstiles, blocking everyone behind you from coming through. I don't care if your shoe is untied. I don't care if you don't know where you're going and need to consult your giant map. I certainly don't care if your cell phone is ringing. Walk 2 more feet, move over to the side, and resolve your issues in a way that doesn't impede the neverending flow of traffic. This becomes increasingly important when it's freezing outside, raining, or rush hour time.

On a similar note, must people halt in the middle of the doorway to the station to light that cigarette that they simply must have immediately upon returning to street level?? I realize that Europe doesn't exactly subscribe to our smoking-is-gross-and-kills-people mentality, and perhaps they're involved in some sort of intracontinental competition to see who can become the Emphysema Capital of the Western World, but not only do we not all enjoy being engulfed in your cloud of smoke as soon as we escape the less-than-breathable air of the Underground, but also, do you honestly not realize that you're standing in the doorway?? Again, walk 2 extra feet and move over. The general idea is this: if you're not moving, get outta the way. It's not brain surgery.

** note - Are we picking up on a trend here?? Perhaps if people could just stop being so totally oblivious to everything and everyone around them, this stuff wouldn't be an issue. Interesting...

Anyway, Mom Speech over. Moving on... **

3. I thought we covered this one in kindergarten, but I was obviously mistaken. Evidently, some users of the Underground (a.k.a. the woman with the red coat and the bad perm, who we will revisit momentarily) need a refresher course on recess etiquette. My own personal experience has led to the inclusion of this rule: Pushing?? Not OK. Even on playgrounds, pushing others is considered bad form, heavily frowned upon, and punishable by up to 30 minutes of standing by the fence while the other kids run around screaming bloody murder.

It was an incident last week which prompted me to add 'no pushing' to the presumabely common sense list of things that people need to be taught around here. I ignored my better judgement and decided that braving the insanity that is Friday at 5:00 might not be so bad. (Riiight...note to self, never again.) So myself and 600 million other people in a giant hurry are all waiting for the same train at Oxford Circus. The train, which, naturally, is already packed, pulls up and we anxiously await the opening of the doors and hope for a mass exodus of those who are already on the train so we can all fit. No such luck. Plan B, you try and maintain some sense of decorum, alternating from each side of the door and acknowledging who was there before you, stepping up when it's your turn. Well I do, anyway, but evidently I can't say as much for some people. There were probably 10 of us waiting by this particular door, and we were doing quite nicely in the manners department...until Richard Simmons' female twin shows up wearing Captain Kangaroo's jacket. Stupid woman...anyway, I had so clearly waited my turn, and I think I recall letting a cute little old couple go ahead of me so they wouldn't get split up. There was room for one more person before the doors closed, and I stepped up to take MY spot, when this jerky woman runs up at the last minute, having completely ignored the waiting-your-turn ritual that the rest of us had just gone through, hops up where my foot already is and physically PUSHES me off of the train. I was so stunned I didn't even know how to react. I think what I ended up doing was to just look at her in consternation, blurt out, 'Are you serious??,' and begrudgingly step back to wait for the next train. The feisty half of me wishes I would have actually, physically removed her from the train, reclaiming my rightful place, but if college football teaches us anything, it's that the retaliator, and not the instigator, is ALWAYS the one who gets caught and penalized 15 yards for unsportsmanlike conduct. Inevitably, some Underground employee would have seen me, had me arrested and charged with assault and battery, totally ignoring my protests of "but Mom, she pushed me first!"

Anyway, Rule #3, no pushing. It's not nice.

4. I admit that this next rule is sort of the equivalent of going through the Chick-fil-A drive through and eating your lunch while sitting in traffic (guilty, about 1000 times over), but I guess I feel like that's more acceptable because at least that way, your food chomping is contained to your own car. People who eat their food on the Underground bug me for several reasons. First of all, I cannot imagine a more unsanitary place to have lunch. Secondly, the boxed mayonaise sandwich culture over here (eww) is gross enough without having to watch people rip into the tell-tale plastic box, flinging lettuce everywhere and inevitably leaving their trash in the seat when they leave. Also, if you simply cannot hold off on eating your 12-inch Subway turkey bacon club with extra onions until you're NOT 12 inches from my face, could you please at least refrain from throwing the tomatoes you don't want on the floor?? A more amusing example: last night, I watched a boy try and eat his boxed sushi dinner on the train. What made him think he was going to be able to successfully maintain a dipping puddle of soy sauce in the corner of the box while attempting to maneuver chopsticks on a train going 45 miles an hour is beyond me. Basically, I'm just saying we could do without watching 4 course pre-theater meals on the Underground. If you're famished, eat a Power Bar...not spaghetti.

5. I'd be willing to bet you that 60% of Underground patrons on any given day are sporting little white iPod earbuds. I'm one of them, and unapologetically so. It's one of the few things that keeps me sane while having to co-exist with all of this absurdity. The problem arises when the ear-bud sporter blares his or her music so loud that you can hear it over your own. Keep it to a dull, self-audible roar, people.

Oh...and singing out loud? Unacceptable. If I don't even want to hear Cher singing 'If I Could Turn Back Time,' I certainly don't want to listen to your bad karaoke rendition.

6. As with Rule #4, I equate this one with putting your makeup on while driving...perhaps not the best idea, but again, at least you're in your own car. My issue is this: I know you're in a hurry, and there's no shame in quickly reapplying your lipgloss or powdering your nose, but could the Underground eyelash curling and mascara application stop? The other day, I actually saw a girl ask some poor, unsuspecting guy who wasn't even with her if he'd hold her mirror for her while she plucked her eyebrows. Come on, ladies...leave something to the imagination. You're giving away all of our tricks!

7. This Rule is going to give me away as the prudish, straight-laced American that the Europeans would accuse me of being, but seriously, the Public Display of Affection situation on the train is completely out of control. There is a level of PDA that's sweet and lovey and perfectly acceptable...and then there's the level of ridiculously smothering gropiness that needs to wait until you get home. Honestly, you're on the train. You'll probably be there in 10 minutes. No one wants to watch that. Spare us...especially the poor little kid and his grandfather sitting next to you!

8. This one goes in the same obliviousness category as the first couple of Rules. If you go shopping and have 45 bags with you, don't pile them all over the seats and take up all the space. I never particularly mind standing, but there are lots of little old ladies who shouldn't have to. Move your stuff...and don't then continue to glare at the person who subsequently takes your bag's seat. It's rude.

9. This is a big one. Hygiene. It's important. It's infinitely more important when you're squishing yourself into an extraordinarily enclosed space with a bunch of people who probably do not enjoy the smell of gym clothes. Or curry. And if you, say, haven't showered in several days, please, whatever you do, do NOT cough on the top of my head while reaching up to hold onto the handles on the ceiling, wafting your yumminess around for all to enjoy. The consequences of this behavior are severe for those around you. Particularly those of us who are of the...petite persuasion (shutup, Wes). I'm sure that some of my sensitivity on this topic stems from the fact that I am very particular about my personal space (which, for the record, is not such a respected thing on this side of the ocean. They see nothing wrong with close-talking...and, apparently, have no problem pushing and shoving complete strangers either, but whatever...), but part of it is also simply a desire to not have to smell the Indian food you ate for lunch yesterday seeping through your pores. Ewww...

10. The last rule is less an observation of patron mis-behavior as it is a constructive criticism to those in charge of the Underground. Midnight?? Are you KIDDING me? What kind of big, busy city's public transport system closes down every station within about 30 minutes of midnight? I cannot for the life of me figure this one out. Yes, you'd have to pay people to work the late shift, but do you have any idea how much money you'd make off of those of us who hate the night bus and avoid black cabs like the plague? It's just good business sense, Mayor Livingstone. And it'd make a whole lot of people very, very happy. So if you could get on that, by say, June, that'd be fabulous...

Happy Undergrounding!! :) :)

**footnote - I realize that Dave goes backwards with his numbers and that he's much less long-winded then I am, but then again, I never claimed to be David Letterman...I don't have a musical sidekick named Paul, I didn't go to Ball State University, I don't continue to sport a Michael Strahan-esque gap between my front teeth despite the fact that I make a gazillion dollars a year for talking to famous people, I didn't have a well-documented and long-standing feud with Oprah Winfrey, and I don't make it a habit of exploiting my poor sweet mother on national television on a regular basis...although I must admit, I do love it when they call Dave's mom! **

The Prodigal Blogger returns...

I know, I know. I'm sorry. It has been brought to my attention, several hundred times actually, that people are not so happy with my neglecting my blog. I blame this on a combination of laziness, busy-ness, and a general lack of interesting things happening in my life. It's nice to know people actually read this thing though...I think...

Anyway, your requests have been evaluated, and I'll make it my mid-January Resolution to do better :)

So...2 and a half months of updates in 150 words or less. Who thinks I can do it??

(I can actually hear you laughing. Shutup...)

k, well...I went home for 10 days in November to play bridesmaid in Mary Ellen's wedding and to eat normal food and watch NORMAL football for Thanksgiving. It was lovely and exactly the escape I needed. I've learned the hard way that being essentially alone in a giant, dreary city can really wear on you sometimes. Came back here for a few weeks, turned in a stupid research methods project, then went back home for the better part of a month for Christmas, New Years, and even more yummy food and football. Had lots of family time, sister bonding, and caught up with lots of people that I've been missing since moving across the ocean. Slept a LOT. Drove on the right side of the road. Went shopping and didn't cringe when I looked at my receipts. Left the house without a scarf and an umbrella. EVERY DAY. 'Twas fabulous...

So now I'm back again, 1/3 of the way done with my degree and feeling a little weirded out that 9 months from now, I'll have turned in my dissertation and will be waiting with baited breath for these people to tell me that I can actually have a degree. I knew my time here would fly by, but to be more than halfway done with the class part seems really strange. Also disturbing is the ridiculously small number of familiar faces I've seen since I've been here (Chris & Jan Woodruff and Janna, Amanda, & Brooke Abraham get SERIOUS bonus points at this juncture!) The moral of the story: get on over here, people!! You're missing it!

-- P.S. For those of you who are currently copying and pasting that paragraph in Microsoft Word to use that word count thing, convinced that Little Miss Long-Winded here can't keep it brief, let me save you some time. Astonishingly enough, the update segment above contains exactly 150 words. I couldn't do that again if I tried!!

-- P.S. #2 I feel the need to note that, technically, I have seen one additional familiar face since moving here, although it didn't come in the form of a visitor. When I got on my plane to come back from Thanksgiving, my friend Andrew from high school was sitting behind me. Literally. In the seat behind mine. He's here working for the same company that Allison was working for last summer when I came to see her here, living in her same flat building, which is about 5 seconds from mine. Crazy, crazy, crazy...he came with us to watch the ACC championship game (read "THE most boring football game ever to be played") and we have church-going aspirations sometime in the near distant future. Who'd have ever thought that I'd run into a fellow Parkview Class of '99/UGA Class of '03 Alumni on another continent?!? Anyway, glad you're here Andrew. See ya soon! :)