beandog

Poor Kane.
After just two pints of Stella Artois he has slipped into such a state of intoxication that his friend has to hold open a plastic bag for him as he fills it with sour chunks of vomit.
His other pals look on laughing.
Maybe it wasn't just the drink that made him feel so ill. . By the look of Tim who sits nearby red eyed and pale, I think that there may well have been a few joints passed around this evening.
Tim stands up. His time has come. No longer can he ignore the calling. At least he has the decency to try and make it to the bathroom. He disappears with a stagger through the nearby door. The looks on people's faces as he passes them on the way out tell me that he didn't make it. A few minutes later he returns. His face is a picture of pride. He has happily redecorated the floor with the rejected excess of the last few hours. Clever boy.
Allow me to put these events into some sort of context.
It is Saturday night and I have been in Soho at a friend's birthday party. I'm on my way home on the last train out of London. A journey that unfortunately for me involves having to stop off at almost every single station. It also involves having to share my carriage with a pack of drunken teenagers as they exit the capital.
Oh joy.
I'm tired. My resistance is weak and I find myself silently registering my disapproval, refusing to acknowledge that I ever behaved in a similar fashion.
Sitting near me is "schizophrenic passive/aggressive guy". An interesting character whom I first became aware of earlier on in the queue at Burger King.
Still young. Maybe late twenties. Smartly dressed. City boy. You probably know the type.
He was ordering a milkshake. Obviously in a hurry to catch his train, he was trying to speed up the pace of the guy serving.
"That's fine mate," he said seeing that his drink was taking too long to fill up from the machine.
The staff member carried on regardless.
"Really, that's fine. I need to catch my train".
By now you could see that something within him was building up towards an explosion. The guy was going through a repeating pattern of checking his watch then flicking his head from side to side. It looked like some kind of nervous twitch. However, despite this obvious increase in tension, the guy continued to maintain politeness.
Then he was short-changed.
"I gave you a tenner".
Blank stare
"Mate, I gave you ten pounds. You've given me change from a five pound note".
Behind the counter the clerk picked up the receipt and studied it.
"Can I have my change"?
The clerk continued to stare blankly. He didn't say a word.
Schizophrenic passive/aggressive guy flipped.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING CUNT"!! He yelled. Finger thrust into the face of the guy serving.
With that he span on his heels and flew out of the restaurant. Leaving his change behind and the clerk looking bewildered.

As usual, it was difficult to feel anything other than disappointment with my own under-cooked, lukewarm death burger. I washed away the regret of my purchase with an equally poor cup of coffee. Then I found my seat on the train.
It wasn't long after this that I noticed "Schizophrenic passive/aggressive guy" sitting nearby.
The carriage continued to fill. I did my best to look like a psychopath hoping that this would put people off of the idea of sitting next to me. It must have worked. I sat alone for the duration of the journey.
With only minutes to go before our departure, on walked the group of party-drunk teens.
Each one was a typical stereotype.
There was the scruffy "alternative" kid, with his tight jeans and oh so fashionable haircut.
Then there was the dominant female, Aged 17 going on 35. Probably secretly dating her mother's tennis coach.
He takes her on weekend drives out of town. He tells her that she looks really pretty and that he loves her so much. He tells her that his wife doesn't suspect a thing.
She tells him that she likes older men and that she just can't relate to boys her own age.
Next up is the alpha male. Good looking, well dressed. Blonde girlfriend in tow. She doesn't say a word. Just smiles and looks tired.
He reminds me of Josh Hartnett but unfortunately suffers from the "David Beckham syndrome". This means that he walks with the confidence of a man who knows he's going to get laid tonight but when he opens his mouth he can't help but sound like a first class idiot.
I feel sorry for the girlfriend. Later on, This chump is gonna be grinding away while she lays beneath him, legs open wide. Mouth open, yawning.
The other girls are all attractive, certainly dressed up for a night out. They all look like they've tried a little too hard. Not yet mature enough to cross that fine line towards looking naturally good.
The other guys all come across like Beavis and Butt-head. The two most obvious examples are the afore-mentioned Kane and Tim.
Tim has a cheesy expression that says; "Stoned but happy" Kane however, is fucked.
Several of the guys dump him into a seat opposite "schizophrenic passive/aggressive guy" who laughs and says hello.
"Sorry", his friends explain, "he's a bit drunk".
The train begins to move.
"He's only had two pints"
"Passive/aggressive guy" smiles and makes some comment about how "we've all been there" and how "it really is no problem", and to, "just look after him".
The movement of the train sets something off in Kane's insides. He leans forward as if he's about to blow.
Before anyone can do anything, he lets some go. A small splash of vomit lands at his feet. This is just the beginning.
"Passive/aggressive guy" laughs, but look uncomfortable. The nervous tick creeps in again.
Kane is handed a plastic bag, which he begins to fill.
Then he starts to lose control. He seems to be simultaneously leaning forward into the bag whilst trying to lie down across the seats. Things begin to get messy, and once again "Passive/aggressive guy" is pushed to the brink.
He moves in inches away from Kane's face (a brave move, I must say)
"YOU FUCKING LITTLE PRICK. IF YOU DON'T GET UP RIGHT NOW AND TAKE YOURSELF OFF TO A FUCKING TOILET I'M GOING TO KICK YOU IN THE FUCKING HEAD."
Silence.
Kane gets the hell out of there.
The group laugh.
"Sorry", they say, "He really has only had two pints".
"Passive/aggressive guy laughs too.
"Ha ha, it's fine, really. Not a problem. Is he going to be okay"?
During the last few minutes Tim has also blown his load further up the train and the rest of the teens are in hysteria. The guys are laughing like hyenas. Loving their friend's lack of self-control.
The girls are all in a state of embarrassment and disgust.
"Passive/aggressive guy" plays contently on his mobile phone.
I just want to be at home.
Eventually my fellow passengers disembark and I am left to consider what a grumpy old man I have become.
To be honest, in different circumstances it could have just as easily been me acting up drunk on the last train home. I guess it's just no fun when you're the sober one surrounded by the inebriated.
Next time I'll be sure to have a few glasses of something toasty. If only to numb my senses to the rancid smell of stomach butter.
Yuk.