The voracious crush of bodies. Like a mad rush by starving zombies . A numbing mindlessness in their gaze, as they charge towards the light. With stoic stares and silent closed mouth shrieks. They make a incongruous dash to rip you to shreds, or merely to board this 5 O’Clock train.
It is hard to tell – they all look the same.
As I stare into the gaping maw as the door glides open, I am blinded by a light: A safe haven. Suddenly I can feel the frenzy building at my back. I hesitate to head towards the salvation it offers. I can feel the urge of the masses ready to charge in a mad cavalcade.
Eventually I move forward only to end up in a small tight space; rubbing elbows with patrons with whom your eyes will never meet. I am overwhelmed by the Musk of eight-hour perspiration, cheap perfume, even cheaper cologne and halitosis mixed with the sickly sweet scent of various shades of Edu De Pepé Le Pew.
In short, it was a journey of olfactory molestation, too horrific to portray. Or, at least, that is what my sinuses informed me.
When egress is finally achieved from my personal Zombie Apocalypse – I felt like Brave heart.
Bellowing a deep and soulful: FREEDOOOMM!!
Atama No Yare 