I walked to Waterloo station after the theatre to get the Northern Line. I walked just behind 4 crazy (the good way) English guys who were already in a weekend mood. As they were a few steps ahead of me they could just about wrestle themselves into the train, using arms and legs to keep the already closing doors open. One of those brave boys sacrificed his arm to try to press the door open for me too, but the train doors were too strong for him. He had to give up, the doors were now closed. 4 faces were looking at me as to apologise for not getting me in.
I pulled up my shoulders, bowed for them as a thank you and waved to them. They waved back.
I was about to turn and wait for the next tube when the train driver, who probably had seen all this and who must have been in an excellent mood, decided to make an exception. An exception to the rule that once the doors are closed, the doors stay closed and the train leaves.
He opened the doors for me.
I stepped in. The cheer that welcomed me made me feel like someone who had just scored a goal for the English football team in the final against France in the Worldcup. It was hilarious, those crazy guys.
I know that life in London is not always a fairy tale, the city has a dark side too, I pass it every day. But on days like this London is great.
British men, you got to love them. Ooh la.