Running down the stairs; taking them 2 by 2; dodging my compañeros de viaje; clutching my laptop bag and trying to avoid thinking about how much the contents actually cost... all because I can hear that tell-tale "shhhhiuuuuussh" of the train pulling in. I reach the bottom, swing and pivot on the railing, catching a glimpse of the monitor as I twirl and come skidding to a halt in a cloud of cartoon dust... because, dammit, it's not my train.
I look ostentatiously casual and do some gratuitous twirls to show that I fully meant throw myself down the stairs – it's the very bestest exercise, don't you know. And then I realise, to my horror, that actually it IS my train! On instinct I lunge at the doors just as they close, narrowly taking my nose out west. It required an extremely complex pantomime to recover from this one.
Separation of Concerns
17 hours ago