Wednesday, July 18, 2001

After last night's quiz [more about that later] and yet another drink in Barcode, I took the Bakerloo line northward bound, homeward bound. Or so I thought. That posh bird wot does the automatic announcements sang out, "the next station is... Waterloo. Change at...Waterloo for..."

"Shit shit shit, I've taken the wrong train," I thought to myself, "the next station should be Oxford Circus. I got on at the wrong platform." A quick explanation for you New Yorkers: this would [I think] be like getting on the A train at Times Square, expecting to get off at Columbus Circle, and discovering instead that you were at Penn Station. Or for you non-New Yorkers, it would be like getting on at Central Anywheresville, expecting to alight at North Anywheresville, and finding out you were heading for South Anywheresville. Is that clear? OK, I'll proceed.

So we arrive at the next station: "This is.. Waterloo. Change here for the..." Now, the signs on the wall clearly say Oxford Circus. The mosaic on the wall is clearly the one at Oxford Circus. But Automated Posh Bird isn't so sure: "This is Waterloo. This is Piccadilly Circus. This is Oxford Circus." The two Spanish lads opposite me grab their bags and flee.

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