Tube Etiquette

Well, I don't want anyone to have anyone staring at my depressing sickbed rant any longer than they have to when they open up my blog, so I think it's time I turn my mind to something that has intrigued me ever since I first stepped, bleary-eyed, onto a Piccadilly Line train from Heathrow.

I mean, let's cut to the chase. The tube, compared to other transport icons, is an institution, as I made reference to in an earlier blog. Anything that has existed for this long will inevitably accrue certain conditions, or a modus operandi, if you will. Therefore, for those of you considering visiting London in the future, allow me therefore to outline some of the commandments that await you once you've minded the gap and stepped onto the hallowed, grime stained floor of an underground carriage.

Seats are Holy.

Indeed they are. Given that a standard tube carriage will have over 100 people in it when it's busy, and about 30 will be sitting down, tops, any time a seat near you becomes vacant it is your sacred duty to ensure that the resulting space remains vacant for the shortest time as possible. Blocking fellow contenders for the seat, using your bag or umbrella (I swear some people carry them solely for this purpose) is perfectly acceptable, as is barging past someone who is patiently waiting for the person getting up to fully extricate themselves and their belongings before they sit down. If you take the same attitude as you would to getting a carpark at a supermarket on Super Sales Sunday, you won't go far wrong. The moral equivalent of parking in the handicapped zone and faking cerebal palsy as you walk into the store is basically what you're looking to achieve on the tube.

Avoid Eye Contact.

Even though in rush hour you will be shoulder to shoulder with the great unwashed of England, listening to a tinny version of Verve due to reverb on the IPod of the person behind you, people on either side of you breathing heavily, and the person in front of you reading a paper - YOU MUST NEVER MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ANYONE. You know you're a hardened cellar dwellar when you can stare right through the skull of the person 10 centimetres in front of you, and pretend to be fascinated in one of Ken Livingstone's London - ONE CITY posters that plaster every tube carriage.

In the same vein, you must also avoid conversation if at all possible. I had an occasion where I accidentally stood on the toe of someone's foot - and instead of saying to me "OWWWWW" or "Excuse Me" or even "Do you mind" she sat there and brushed at my pants for what must have been five minutes in retrospect. I stood there from Swiss Cottage to Bond Street, through 3 stations, looking at my feet and wondering where that draught was coming from and why it was hitting the back of my leg. It was only when she followed through on one and smacked my calf that I looked behind me and saw a glowering face, eyes red with hatred and pain. It was all I could do not to laugh, as I ever so slightly repositioned my size 12 boot, to avoid cutting off further circulation to her toes.

Turnstile Protocol

When one approaches the turnstiles, it is imperative that you should have everything ready to go. Whether you're on a ticket, or an oyster card, woe betide the person who fails to open the gates on the first time. Given that there will you usually be anywhere between 1-25 people behind you (depending on whether you're at Willesden Green at midnight or Knightsbridge at 8:30am), any faltering in getting through the gates will result in any (or all) of the following occurring...

You'll either get the person behind you barging into your back, as they assume you were going to get through, a la the rear end car accidents you always get on turn left at any time slip lanes in Australia, when the person in front goes forward and then stops. Alternatively, you'll get angry looks from the people behind you for delaying them for a good 3 seconds as you extricate yourself from the turnstile and head over to the underground help desk, where a bored attendant just tells you to go through the luggage entrance without checking your card.

The other alternative is to just assume your card will always work and hit the gates with the full force of your body at the same time as you swipe your card, so whether you get a green or red light, you're going through regardless. If you want to eschew brute force in favour of cunning, you can always line up behind someone else who has an oyster card, and follow closely behind them, with a perfunctory tap on the card reader for show. You'll be through before the gates close. While I don't recommend fare dodging on the tube, and don't practice it myself, it can be done by a truly stingy and determined person.

No Talking

And finally, perhaps the most sacred rule of all. The Sistine Chapel might have a no talking policy, but no-one ever listens to it. Anyone trying to find God in the chapel would have a hard time hearing him over the hubbub of American accents and general muttering that exists. However, if Michaelangelo had painted Adam in the buff on the ceiling of the 8:20am tube from Kilburn to Green Park, I can guarantee you wouldn't hear a damn thing, apart from the tortured screams of the wheel bearings as the train negotiates the curves in the track.

While talking on the tube is accepted at certain times - 12:00am on a Saturday morning springs to mind, particularly when pissed - on a weekday and during working hours, the cone of silence reigns supreme. Everyone strives desperately to avoid seeing that there are in fact one hundred other people around them, and concentrates on studying that poster of Livingstone's, or takes an unusual interest in just how much floor lint they've managed to accumulate on their shoe.

They actually have a day dedicated to conversing on the Tube in November, a day when people are supposed to start conversations. Should be an interesting experience.

Ideally, the perfect tube traveller should be a person who brings a fold out chair with them, is blind, has a travelcard valid for the next 3 decades and who is a mute. Such is the manner of the overlord of the London Underground. Follow in his footsteps and you won't go far wrong.