The other day, I hopped on a busy train at High Street Kensington, saw there were no empty seats, and quickly headed towards the centre pole.
And there he was. A man, leaning with his entire back, shoulders, and butt against the pole, oblivious to the one woman gingerly holding the pole above his head.
I walked around him, said ‘excuse me’, and in the moment he shifted his back (not in response, he was just getting comfy), quickly slipped my hand onto the pole.
I assumed that once he knew someone was there and attempting to cling on for dear life, he’d move. He didn’t. Instead, he shifted… Read the full story