The drunkard is me.
I’m about 20. It’s very late, I’m unquestionably drunk and I categorically cannot afford a cab. This is 10 years ago when uber was a word you used instead of ‘very’ or ‘bloody'. The summer is in full swing.
I get on the Bakerloo line and like a total amateur I fall asleep.
Before you know it I’m arising from my slumber at Harrow and Wealdstone, ZONE SIX. The end of the line.
I stumble out of the carriage and down the platform. I’m somewhat preoccupied with how I’m going to get home from this foreign horizon now the tubes have stopped running, but it’s okay - the balmy evening means that even in my t-shirt I’ll be okay if I have to walk.
The station is roomy to say the least. I wander around aimlessly before realising two things:
- The tubes haven’t stopped running and I can just go back the way I came.
- I WAS WEARING A COOPER TEMPLE CLAUSE HOODIE AND WHERE THE HELL DID THAT GO.
For those of you not familiar with The Cooper Temple Clause, they were (and probably still are) my favourite band ever. They are awesome and so IS THAT GOD DAMN HOODIE.
I head back to the platform where I alighted. The train I arrived on is still idling.
I venture towards the carriage I think I was on, which now contains but one person.
He is a suspiciously delighted Indian man. I deduce the origins of his delight from his ace new red hoodie even though I HAVE NOT SEEN HIM AT ANY COOPER TEMPLE CLAUSE GIGS.
I approach the fellow and confidently reach for my hoodie which is currently lying part under his bag and slightly under him. There is literally no way he can lay claim to my GOD DAMN TCTC HOODIE and I’m not going to give it up easily.
As I bend down, reaching for my beloved garment, I maintain eye contact waiting to see if he says something. I am polite but wearing a slightly awkward smile that says, “sorry this is my hoodie." Bizarrely he maintains his delighted expression, only minutely regretful that he is no longer the owner of MY GOD DAMN TCTC HOODIE.
I relinquish it from him without a word uttered, both of us seemingly content with ourselves, and make my way to an alternative carriage.
I escape to zone 3 with all my particulars in tact. And that was that.
I still have that hoodie.