Underground

Okay so I take the Jubilee from London Bridge through Canada Water and Canary Wharf to Canning Town. Then I get on the Docklands through to Shadwell.. or is that Limehouse? Wait no. If I take the Circle... Why do they call it a Circle it only goes north? Or is that east..?

I was already lost. And had been most of the morning. When I first noticed I was lost, I had left the airport but somehow ended up at Wembley Park. How, I had no idea. Guess I wasn't paying attention. I didn't think it would be this difficult. I mean, they gave me a map..

Well s**t! Chancery Lane isn't even on the Hammersmith & City. No wait, there it is. S**t. I'm lost again. I thought I knew where I was.

When I had found myself at Oxford Circus, I had decided to go up and have a look around. I had read there was once an Oxford Douglas Appreciation Society who did pubcrawls. Have wanted to run into that crowd for years. Apparently I was wrong. Or rather I could have been right but I didn't know what pubcrawls looked like anyway.

I had walked a bit topside. Found Blackfriars and something to eat nearby. Not seeing the h2g2 offices I decided to go back underground. I had no idea the time. All the clocks appeared broken. Or maybe they're just english and me being a stupid American I didn't know how to read their kind of clocks.

Well it made sense at the time.

I was sitting there studying the postcard they'd sent me. Mumbling to myself in the subway car. Nice card. I actually enjoyed the card more than the T-shirt, though that was very nice too. The T-shirt read "pre-millenium sub-editor type dude" or something like that and had the h2g2 insignia. I thought that was pretty cool. They sent it all the way from here, so I figured I'd hop on a plane and travel there and thank them personally. I mean.. They sent me a map. It was on the postcard. A map of the London Underground. I figured it wouldn't be hard to surprise them...

Okay okay Zach get a hold of yourself. You're at Royal Oak. No wait it's Paddington now. That means you're on the L.. No that's Chicago. You're on the ..the pink one what's that? Hammersmith and City? I thought I got off that one..

"Need some help lad?"

I looked up and this tall gangly lookin' dude was staring down at me. He smelled like alcohol and hadn't shaved in days. Probably a homeless guy. I shouldn't hold that against him I guess. I mean, I haven't shaved in years. Just the occasional trim.

"Well yeah I guess. Sorta. I mean I'm kinda new here."

He grunted and gave one simple nod, "I gathered that by the accent. What have you there?"

I showed him the postcard and he laughed. A big uproarious laugh that seemed to rock the subway car, but it was just my imagination. The tracks were rocky I think.. Or maybe it's turbulence..

I got defensive, "Don't laugh, man. My friends sent me this."

He sat down next to me. Maybe it wasn't alcohol. Just real bad cologne. "Sorry. It's just that what you have there is something for the tourists. It's really not very accurate."

"Really?"

"Oh my yes. See that one there?" He pointed at a line but we went through something and the lights flickered so I didn't really see which one.

"Yes I see it," I lied.

"Closed for repairs. Has been for weeks. To get an accurate map you have to go to Piccadilly."

"I can't get to Piccadilly."

"Well see there's your problem, lad."

"Great. Thanks for the help." I said, laced with sarcasm.

"You're welcome." He smiled as he parried my sarcasm with some of his own.

"Actually to be quite honest, I don't know where I'm going. That's my problem. I guess I never paid attention to what my destination was. Maybe I thought London wouldn't be this big. I mean how do you guys fit all this on one little island?"

"It's not a little island." He almost sounded offended.

I placed a hand to my chest and tried to look apologetic, "I'm from Texas."

He understood immediately. "Ah! So to you this would be a small island." We nodded and shared a nervous laugh. "Well it's rather late. How long have you been here?"

"Since this morning. I've been riding in these subways all day."

He nodded again, accessing the situation. We both looked down at the postcard, each of us holding it tentatively with fingertips, scouring it as if it would help when he knew better than I that it wouldn't. It did pass the time and made me feel better.

"Well you do appear to have placed yourself in a bit of a pickle."

"Yeah."

"Do you know where your friends are?"

"The offices for h2g2 dot com.. But it's not on the map."

"Ah.."

"What brings you down here this late?"

"Well I'm a writer.. and when I'm in town sometimes I get stuck. I thought riding around down here would jog my creative juices a bit. I ran out of bovril sandwiches, and haven't felt like a bath..."

I could tell. I thought about telling him I was a writer too, but I'm not a published writer. I mean, unless you count the 'Net. I've published a lot on the 'Net but never got paid for any of it. But then I thought about the card and the shirt.. I guess in some ways I get paid. When people read my stuff and like it and tell me, sometimes that feels better than a paycheck. But it doesn't pay the bills.

I thought better of it. He seemed to have a lot on his mind.

"Well I hope you find your friends." He stood up to leave. The subway began to slow down. I think he was getting off at Wood Green.. or was it Gunnersbury?

"Honest. Thank you for trying to help anyway. Most Texans don't really look at each other. Much less stop to talk."

He smiled again and held back the sarcasm, "You're welcome. But tell me. Why did you come all this way, apparently on impulse? Your friends must mean a lot to you."

"I just wanted to thank them. Personally."

The train stopped. The doors flew open. It was just me and the tall man in a trenchcoat, and an empty subway.

"Well lad, between you and me? I believe you just did. Cheers." And with that he walked out into the darkened terminal.

I looked through the windows trying to see him as he left but he seemed to vanish into the shadows. I could make out the clock on the wall.

Six o'clock. But then it was six o'clock the last time I saw a clock. They're all broken. All the clocks in all of England were frozen in time. And that just didn't make any sense.

And I guess it was the lack of logic to the dream which caused me to wake up. I shrugged and got ready for work.

[thanks y'all.]