fighting for my attention. The rocking of the train isn’t helping either. I knock Sam’s foot with mine. Our eyes lock, a smile on his face. I can’t help but smile in return, but as I do my bladder sends a shot of pain to my brain reminding me that at this moment in time it is my main priority. I lean forward to talk to him. ‘I need a piss.'
He laughs. ‘Can’t you wait?’
‘No, I really need a fucking piss. If I wait any longer I’ll piss myself.’
Sam’s face frowns. He looks up at the map on the train’s wall, he’s in deep concentration. His eyes flick to mine. ‘Waterloo.’
My turn to laugh. ‘Are you taking the piss?’
‘No, but you will be though at Waterloo. They’ve got toilets there haven’t they?’
‘Why can’t we just get off at Euston? It’s closer and I know they definitely have toilets.’
‘No,’ his voice adamant. ‘If we get off at Waterloo we’re in a better place.’
I frown. ‘What’s the difference?’
‘Waterloo,’ his only reply. The train stops at Euston, we stay put, it moves to the next stop and he stands, I follow him, my bladder close to eruption. We exit the train. Warren Street.
I stop. Staring at the sign. Why here? Why Warren Street? I look at Sam, desperation on my face. ‘Sam, maybe you don’t realise how much I really need to piss. It’s like code red alert.’
He looks at me. ‘Don’t worry, you can hold it in a little longer. We’ll catch the Northern line from here and we’ll be at Waterloo in no time whatsoever.’ He starts to walk. I follow, feeling my bladder protesting at each step.
Don’t think about it. Ignore it. You are in control of your body, it can’t piss without your permission. Walk, one step after the other. Just think, each step a step closer to a urinal. Focus on Sam, let thoughts of him take over in your head. He’s tripping and you just need a piss. It’s more important to ensure that no harm comes to him.
Footstep, footstep, footstep. Focus. We’ve been down this way before. I stop. We have, I’m sure of it. ‘Sam, are we going in circles?’
He giggles and looks sheepishly at me. ‘I think we’re a little lost.’
‘How can you get lost in a tube station?’
‘I dunno.’
I can’t help but laugh. Concentrate, find the right platform, follow the signs without deviation and voila, here we are. A platform. The right platform. Stand and wait for the train. It’ll be here in five minutes according to the orange LCDs on the display. Stand, wait, pray for the strength of your bladder. The longest five minutes of your life. Eyes watching the screen counting down minute by minute.
A rumble in the distance, getting louder. Closer. The rush of cold air around me. A train pulls into the station, its doors slide open. Step on. One step closer to Waterloo. I smile at Sam. ‘I think I’m going to make it.’
III
Waterloo. We raise slowly up out from the underworld, up into the station. As expected it’s busy. People rushing around making their way home. It’ll get busier over the next few hours, rush hour has still to come.
We march around the station, our feet on a mission. A mission controlled by my bladder, yet no matter how hard we look, the toilets elude us. We can’t find them, each second the bladder sends shockwaves up to my brain to force me not to give up. And then we see it. A glorious icon. The star guiding the three kings to the birthplace of Christ. Twenty pence to relieve yourself. Twenty pence into a machine and you can push through the barriers. Never been so happy to be in a toilet, and what a toilet, it’s massive, a city of urinals lined against the wall, stretching off into the distance. Take your pick of where you want to piss.
I walk my way to the end. Stand, unbutton, pull out. Relief, I can feel the bladder shrinking, the pain and pressure fading with each passing second, and still it comes, a never-ending fountain flowing direct from the source and cascading down into the gleaming white toilet. I’ve never seen a urinal shine so bright, content at swallowing down the bitter golden fluid of man. Thousands of men delivering golden showers into its open mouth. The flow slows, comes to an end, my body now free from waste fluid. Shake, pull back, button up. I turn around, my face creases to one of confusion. Surely it wasn’t as big as this when I entered. Stretching off into the distance are urinals and cubicles, some doors open, some closed. A silence in my ears. Walk to the sink and wash my hands, shake off the excess water. Think. As the hot air from the dryer gushes over my hands, my eyes scan the surroundings looking for a way out.
Walk, retrace footsteps. One after another, leading me around but I can’t see the exit. Frustration. How can you get lost in a toilet? But remember this isn’t your average toilet, no, this is a palace for human waste. I wanna scream. You can’t go up behind someone, tap them on the shoulder and say ‘Hi, I’ve got a bit of a problem.’
I wash my hands again, trying to make my wandering have purpose. It’s from here that I see him, an attendant. If anyone’s going to be able to help me make my escape it’ll be him. My legs guide me over to him. He watches me approach. I smile. ‘Hi,’ I say. ‘How do you get out of here?’
His face changes, he’s looking at me as though I’m simple, stupid. Then he nods. ‘Try turning around, the exit is right behind you.’
‘Oh,’ I say, not through shock but through a sinking feeling in my gut. I turn round and Sam’s looking at me from the other side of the barriers. I can read his thoughts on his face, what the fuck are you doing? I walk to the barriers and push my way through. Feeling somewhat stupid, I walk with my head hung low as we climb up the mountain of steps.
‘What took you so long?’ Sam asks, his head turning to look at me.
‘I got lost in there.’ I try to keep my face sombre, serious, but the incredibility of it is too much, a wide smile crosses my lips. ‘How stupid is that? I got lost in a toilet.’
Sam bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he does. We reach the top of the step mountain, he speaks again, ‘I need a drink.’
We walk to WHSmith. Sam picks up a bottle of Coke and makes his way to the counter, money exchanges hands and we leave. Walk onto the station and find a seat opposite the Underground entrance. Sam offers me a cigarette. Click, flame, inhale. I hear him open his bottle, he takes a swig then passes it to me. I take it and swig on it. Feel the liquid fall through my body, its sugary taste lubricating the dried out passages of my throat. I see a spark of light, Sam’s lit up his own cigarette. I hand the bottle back. Sit, smoke, enjoy. Enjoy this rest, it feels like hours since we digested the mushrooms but it surely can’t be that long.
I watch the escalators, swarms of people rising up in neat lines before spreading out in different directions. Rats. That’s what they look like, rats swarming out of the sewers. Business men, the vermin of mankind, pestilence in a three piece suit. You can see when the trains arrive deep below our feet, it’s shown by the constant ebb and flow of movement raising up from the depths. A rat swarm, brief respite, another swarm, then nothing. An army invading, spreading out across the country. Get too close to them and they’ll sweep you away, all of them pushing and barging past each other, striving to maintain their personal space, cross it and they might attack, bite you with a venomous tirade of poison.
I take a swig from Sam’s bottle, it’s near its end. The cigarette in my fingers burns to the butt. Flick it away and hand the bottle back to Sam, let him have the honour of finishing it off. The sound of the bottle hitting the floor indication that the rest is over. In unison we rise to our feet and advance towards the escalators, the stragglers from the last swarm the only life near it. Place our feet onto the moving metal and let it take us deep into the earth at mechanical pace. Underground, our old friend. We have no direction, no aims, nowhere to go. Jump on the first train and let it guide our trip.
Sam’s happy, I can see it in his eyes, I wonder what he sees, I mean to be
smiling like that he can’t just be seeing shades of grey. A monochrome life of boring routine is what flashes before my eyes. Mundane. I wish I could see the bright colours, even just one, a red highlighting a sign, a glimmer of hope against monotony, but there is nothing no matter where I turn. The train has just arrived, walk on and sit. Something’s got to start happening soon.
IV
Embankment. One stop from Waterloo. So why are we here? I have no idea, it just seemed like a good place to get off. An urge, that would be the best way to describe it. We had an urge to get off at this station, an inner voice telling us that something is going to happen here. The voice of mushrooms commanding our bodies; zombies to the toxins.
The station looks dark to me, everything looks dark, the faint veil of the dirt of mankind, a disgusting scum of monotony, timetables and schedules. It clings to the walls, a living creature coating the surface, breathed in it keeps us in check, makes us tow the line, keeps us alive long enough to fulfil a purpose to the State. An invisible heroin hit. This is what I fight everyday, now, protected by the toxins running through me, I can see it. Disgusting, its presence clings to all life, a grey dulling the lives of those it touches.
‘How long have we been walking?’ Sam’s voice cuts across me, bringing me to attention.
‘Dunno.’ I stop to think. We’ve turned no corners, made no changes in our journey, yet still we haven’t reached a destination, just an eternal walk in a straight line.
‘Fucking hell,’ Sam continues. ‘How long is this tunnel?’
I frown and look forward, it trails unfalteringly into the distance. I turn around, it trails unfalteringly into the distance. ‘It can’t be this long surely.’
‘This is fucked.’
Trapped in a tunnel, no going back the way we came, the only way forward is to press on. ‘Let's keep going.’
Our legs start to ache, the end of the tunnel never getting any closer. People pass us by, marching on with ease, fading into the distance without even giving us a second glance. It’s like we’re invisible, ghosts trapped in limbo, reaching for the divine light yet never getting any closer to salvation.
We stop again. Focus our eyes, the end seems to be getting closer. Pulling us slowly towards it, a sarcastic look on its face. You want to get here? Well fucking prove how much you want it.
I look at Sam, I can feel the frown on my face. ‘What the fuck? It’s never-ending.’
‘We’ve got to be imagining this. There’s no way it takes this long to get through. We’ve just got to think about it.’
I laugh at him. ‘There’s no thinking about it, we’re gonna do it.’
I grip his arm and we march on. My eyes locked on the exit, the intersection at the end of the tunnel. Step after step it jerks forward, gradually getting closer. Never give up, never turn back, always push forward. The secret of life, always strive for what you want and don’t lose sight of that, no matter how far away it seems, each step you take brings it closer. Then when you reach it you just find another crossroad, more choices to make, life always pushing forward, one goal obtained after another. Just never give up on following those dreams, even if they end up being nightmares in disguise.
So here we are, at our crossroads. Finally achieved our goal but have no idea of where we are going. We stand without destination, around us people rushing, pushing. Always got to be somewhere else, always moving quickly, no time to take in anything.
‘Where are we going?’ Sam says quickly.
‘I dunno.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I said I dunno.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I dunno.’ Frustration enters my voice.
‘Where are we going?’ Sam’s voice a rapid repeat of a question, forcing a decision.
‘I dunno.’ My mind’s trying to focus, think of a destination and make that choice, but so many choices.
‘Where are we going?’
My brain screams. Just force through a decision, don’t think it through, just go. Get moving, answer just to prevent hearing that question again. I feel my arm rise and point in a direction. ‘That way, that’s where we’re going.'
‘Why?’ Another question.
‘Just because.’ My quick answer.
‘Why?’
‘I dunno, it feels like a good idea.’
‘Why?’
‘I just does.’ Bite back the frustration with a loving smile.
‘Why?’
‘Sam, no reason, we’re just going that way. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ Finally, no more questions.
We walk in the random direction I’d pointed in, our feet treading unknown surfaces. A route never walked, and likely never to be walked again. Another tunnel, each one looks the same as the last. Long tubes of dirty white filled with recycled air and the invisible trails of life. Even an empty space down here contains silent spectres of the past, memories of journeys made in routine, brain dead zombies walking around without paying attention. I can still see the grey scum clinging to the walls, I'm still disconnected from Sam. Our steps alongside each other mix, connect, but our lips don’t move. You can’t communicate across realms. All I want to do is reach out and touch him, praying that’ll offer a link into his world, but my arm refuses to stretch out towards him, not even willing to brush lightly against his hand. Solitary figures walking in unison, joined only in the need to protect each other.
There’s a wind. Why is there a wind down this tunnel? Are we near a platform? The sound of hundreds of rushing footsteps forces us to stop and listen, something inside us tells us to push up against the wall, to just stand there. It is a good decision, the footsteps are getting louder, speeding towards us, the wind still blowing through the tunnel. Then we see them, a moving mass of life, charging through these underground passages like wildebeest escaping a predator. As the wind hits them their hands raise and rub through their hair, the women slow slightly to flick their heads back, allowing their locks to flip backwards in slow motion. Human wildebeest as filmed by Vidal Sassoon. A giant hair commercial, everyone showing off the shine of their shampoo, the hold of their styling products, the effectiveness of their anti-dandruff solutions. Everyone has perfect hair, not one strand missing, its thick abundance exactly as styled, not a single hair out of place. Sprayed, glued, sculpted. As the mass glides past, their eyes look at us with disgust, viewing us as imperfect specimens, our hair not as perfect at theirs, laying upon our heads in natural messiness.
Then nothing. The herd has moved on, taking their wind with them. Glorifying their hair elsewhere. Sam and I left forgotten, backs against the wall. I hear a clatter next to me, metal rattling to the floor, crashing against the solid surface. I look down. Sam’s key chain and its contents lay discarded, he stands there smiling at me.
‘You’ve dropped your chain,’ I state the obvious.
‘It was pissing me off so I got rid of it,’ he replies cheerily.
‘But you need them, they’ve got your house keys on them.’
He snorts and walks away. I crouch down and pick up the discarded mass of metal. He’s ripped apart the connecting hoop, pulled it apart somehow. I’m frowning down at them when I sense a presence close to me. I shift my eyes up. Sam’s face right in front of mine, close enough to kiss. ‘What you doing?’ he says.
'What the fuck have you done to these?’ I ask, holding up the decimated ring. He shrugs nonchalantly at me, I don’t think he cares. My eyes survey the floor, looking for the clip, but I can’t see it anywhere. That means one thing. I reach to Sam’s jeans.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks again. I unclip the metal lock from his belt loop and hold it up to his face. His eyes flick to it. His mouth repeats ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m gonna try and fix this.’ I cross my legs and sit against the wall, one hand holding the clip, the other the chains and ruined hoop. ‘How the hell di
d you do this?’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Trying to fix these.’ I bend the metal, trying to connect the two pieces together securely. My brain trying to concentrate, normally this would be the easiest thing to do, but now, at this minute, it feels as hard as Rubik’s cube.
‘What are you doing?’ I can feel his breath against my face.
‘Trying to fix these.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Sam.’ I can hear the frustration in my voice. Compose myself before continuing, look up to the face and smile. ‘I’m trying to mend whatever you did to these.’
‘Why?’
‘You need them, they’re important.’
‘Why?’
Sigh deep. Don’t answer, despite the frustration there is no anger, I want to laugh.
‘Why?’
No answer.
‘Why?’
No answer. Focus on the task, ignore the quiver in my stomach muscles. It’s coming I know it.
‘Dom, what are you doing?’
Laughter shakes through my body. ‘Trying to fix these.’
‘Why?’
Shake my head, try to control the laughter, it’s distracting. Focus. ‘Because they’re important, end of story.’
‘Why?’
If I bend the hoop that way it should be able to hold the chains securely enough for the rest of the night.
‘Dom, why?’
Pull to check. Done, success. The laughter erupts, a happy laughter, joyous. I’ve finally completed the task after what seems like ages. I hold up the chains and look at the face watching me. I can feel his breath. His mouth moves. ‘What are you doing?’ he says.
I smile, lean in and peck him on the lips with mine. Jump to my feet and hold out the chains. ‘There you go. Fixed.’
‘I don’t want them though,’ he says. ‘They piss me off.’
‘But you need them.’
He shrugs and smiles. ‘Just drop them on the floor, I can always get new ones later.’
There’s no way I’m going to discard them after the effort I’ve just put into fixing them, and despite whatever in his head is telling him he doesn’t need them I know otherwise. I sigh. ‘You sure you don’t want them?’ He nods vigorously in reply. ‘Fine,’ I breathe as I clip the metal alongside the ones I’m wearing. Push the keys into my back pocket and let the chains fall. They clatter against the two that already hang against my leg. I can feel the extra weight dragging me down, slowing me down. Four chains, twice my usual burden, but an important burden. I look back at Sam. ‘Right, can we get out of here?’
‘Yeah, okay.’
It’s time to escape these underground levels. I need to breathe new air, not the discarded breath of rushing businessmen and civilians, and besides that, I really need a cigarette.
V
This is taking the piss. We’re trapped in this station, from every platform we stand on we watch orange lights form the schedules of the trains,