So I'm on an unusually empty train home last night after an hour at the gym. Everyone has a seat, aside from two guys and a woman (that'd be me) who likely chose to stand. For space. Elbow room. I'm in London, London is a crowded cess pool and space is at a premium. But space = comfort, so it costs. A LOT.
The train suddenly dies in the tunnel. An announcement, the power's cut out, problem with the train, yadda yadda. We do the stop/start thing for another ten minutes, trudging down the track to go out of service on an already crowded platform and I'm evacuated into a very uncomfortable situation, polar opposite to the quasi-paradise I was in just minutes earlier.
The guy over there is in the midst of a mob with a Marlboro hanging from his lip. Ah. He's switched off the discomfort by touching fire to disease. He's slouching, he's got some room. He's killing himself.
But he's comfortable.
The gal to his left, engulfed in his blue cloud, chomping on a chocolate bar. She's above the national average I'm sure, as far as weight is concerned. Should really lay off the chocs. And the cheeseburgers, chips and cookies. But it tastes good, she's not thinking about the mob. She tips the scales over much farther and she's looking in the eye of the Reaper years before she should.
But she's comfortable.
I look around and count about 6 more. Smoking, eating. Self-medicating. All I can smell is cigarette smoke. The next train is ten minutes out. I should get out of here, take the bus, walk home, anything.
But I'm only one stop away. I don't smoke anymore, I'm not eating anything, I want to get home quickly - I want to be comfortable.
This gets me thinking about what it costs on this planet to feel comfort. Thinking about the fact that money spent on a two bedroom flat in this city would buy me a few acres in the suburbs near my last US location. About how the only place I can find any personal space at present is in a park, which is full of other people desperate for the same thing. The house I live in belongs to my in-laws, the house I live in has a revolving door. Their guests = my guests. I don't like company this often. Please go now. I want to be comfortable, not keep my hair tied back and my bra on because I'm expect