This story about a man sneezing on a crowded tube train will show you who the true heroes of this world are
This is a beautifully told story in 19 tweets about a man sneezing on a crowded tube train.
Make sure you read all the way to the end, the detail and descriptiveness is wonderful.
1.
I took the tube to work this morning at rush hour. It was absolutely mobbed. Carnage. You know the drill. Queues of anxious commuters waiting to board. TFL guy yelling incoherently about the doors.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
2.
Managed to squeeze on. The usual smell of bad breath and shower gel.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
3.
There’s normally a sort of blitz spirit on these occasions. Dark humour. How can there not be, when you can literally smell what the person next to you had for dinner last night?
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
4.
But today was different. The crowd was tetchy. There had been some jostling on the platform, and the odd (half-embarrassed) cry of “move DOWN”. When I boarded, a lady with a strong Liverpudlian accent had started yelling at the guy next to her for squashing her arm.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
5.
So we’re barrelling along between stations, and we are squeezed in TIGHT. Barely able to move my head, I turn my head and look to the right.
What I see there chills me to my very core.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
6.
About three feet away, there’s a small bloke standing with his back to the door. Must be 16/17 years old. He is truly hemmed in, arms locked to his side, his wee head like the end of a sausage poking out of a hot dog. And the look on his face is one of sheer terror.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
7.
His eyes are wide. His nostrils are flared. He’s moving the top of his mouth in a circular motion and frantically crinkling and uncrinkling his nose.
The poor bastard is about to sneeze.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
8.
For a moment I wonder if he might be able to suppress it. He’s trying his best. He’s doing everything he can. But I can see that he is ultimately powerless. Like a gathering storm, the sneeze cannot be resisted. It is a force of nature.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
9.
I enter a state of high alertness. On a quick calculation I reckon that I am outside of the immediate blast radius, and so am probably safe. But there must be five people in direct danger. Five grumpy commuters. One of them is Angry Scouse Lady.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018
10.
In the microsecond before the sneeze comes, I lock eyes with the guy. He looks at me like a man who has been sent to the gallows. I try to look sympathetic.
— Jamie Susskind (@jamiesusskind) January 25, 2018