You know, that guy?
Every morning I get on the tube and it’s always the same guy that sits in front of me. He gets on at Cessnock about 8:30 in the morning and heads towards town. I don’t know who he is, where is going or what he does when he gets there but every morning it’s the same face that greets me.
I have no idea what it is that makes people do the same thing each day. The same seat the same carriage the same time. It’s weird because I know this guy, would recognise him instantly the moment I saw him, and yet I know absolutely nothing about him.
He has long straggly dark hair and he usually wears a well-worn suit and jacket. I think he looks a bit like an undercover policeman, that kind of scruffy but hardened detective look that every clichéd cop show on telly seems to emulate. The loose tie, the worn and creased shirt. It’s business attire but not the type of business done at corporate meetings.
I can picture him on some stakeout somewhere sitting in a battered old cavalier, coffee cups and empty sandwich packets on the dashboard, his well trusted wise cracking partner sitting next to him. Next time I see him he is sitting at a table in a claustrophobic room, shirt sleeves rolled up, smoking a fag and telling the nervous looking guy across from him that the other guy croaked and he is going down. I can see him jumping fences while he gives chase to some rogue in a tracksuit, having a laugh with the other detectives down the pub, well earned pint in hand after a tough collar.
Ok, ok, I am wandering off topic here. Chances are he just works in an office, probably the council, perhaps even a bank. Who knows?
One day I am going to speak to him. One day I will have the courage to actually talk to him and find out the truth. Who he is, what he does, why he is on that train every day? Until then he is just the guy on the train.
Jimmy Monteith
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