Mind The Gap
Jun. 20th, 2006 05:25 pmI may have to reconsider my opinion of football fans.
Today, 2 pm, tram station Dasselstraße: An old man, type retired "public servant", yells at the bike riders passing by the station. Admittedly, they were riding across the sidewalk, and bikers in Cologne are annoying often enough, but just now, they weren't bothering anyone - except, apparently, that old bastard. And he was really annoying.
Eventually, two young men, dressed up for the football match later on, addressed him. "Excuse me (!), could you please (!) get a little less het up?"
He continued anyway. But...
Today, 4 pm, train station Cologne South: I am too stupid to board a train. Instead, I step right into the gap (Yes, all Londoners are now permitted to laugh) and find myself up to the hip between train and platform. (That's a scary feeling, I can tell you.)
Figures that the only people who bothered to help and ask whether I was ok were not the "normal people", but the English and Swedish (!) football fans. I mean, I didn't actually need help, I got out fine on my own, and I was ok - I have some scratches and some bruises on my legs, nothing wild - but you still prefer sympathy and support to the "If I pretend I didn't see anything, it didn't happen" attitude.
Whenever I hear Espinosa, I think of Carla. ...
Right. Going to take photos now, I guess.
Today, 2 pm, tram station Dasselstraße: An old man, type retired "public servant", yells at the bike riders passing by the station. Admittedly, they were riding across the sidewalk, and bikers in Cologne are annoying often enough, but just now, they weren't bothering anyone - except, apparently, that old bastard. And he was really annoying.
Eventually, two young men, dressed up for the football match later on, addressed him. "Excuse me (!), could you please (!) get a little less het up?"
He continued anyway. But...
Today, 4 pm, train station Cologne South: I am too stupid to board a train. Instead, I step right into the gap (Yes, all Londoners are now permitted to laugh) and find myself up to the hip between train and platform. (That's a scary feeling, I can tell you.)
Figures that the only people who bothered to help and ask whether I was ok were not the "normal people", but the English and Swedish (!) football fans. I mean, I didn't actually need help, I got out fine on my own, and I was ok - I have some scratches and some bruises on my legs, nothing wild - but you still prefer sympathy and support to the "If I pretend I didn't see anything, it didn't happen" attitude.
Whenever I hear Espinosa, I think of Carla. ...
Right. Going to take photos now, I guess.