March 4, 2013 - Written by: Yazmin Joy

Mean Streets

I am the first to admit that I have this very romanticized image of London-living in my mind. Ooo I’m like London’s Carry Bradshaw. Laaaa I am sooo cosmo with my soya latte and take away cup right now. Ahhh chante… what an elegant arrangement of flowers in front of this tudor looking building – INSTAGRAM!!! I am turning into one of those highly irritating people who take pictures of my coke can and think it’s arty.

I will also admit that most of the time this romanticized perception of London is predominantly derived from Sliding Doors and Richard Curtis films. I have recently become aware that these preliminary examples fall into the ‘chick flick’ category. But, it occurred to me the other day that my life might NOT be a chick flick – I mean what if my life is a crime thriller or a horror or a Ali McGraw-style rites of passage. NOOOOOO! What if my perception of the world is completely removed from reality!?? I was starting to learn that people are actually pretty mean in this town!

The other day I walked into the office to find my colleague in tears. Some bastard vigilante had tried to steal her laptop on the tube in the morning rush hour. This annoyed me for two reasons. The first was, what kind of numpty would attempt a robbery during rush hour. Secondly, my colleague looks a bit like Bambi and as I am member of PETA the fact someone tried to steal from her makes me feel physically sick. She’s just so sweet tempered and adorable.

(Photo from www.disney.co.uk)

A few days later, about 3.30pm on the underground, someone told me (and I quote) ‘Why don’t you FUCKING move out the way’. I was listening to Dusty Springfield at the time and so was unaware of this walrus business brutus trying to get past me. I was slightly taken aback by this abrupt incivility. ‘Parrrrdon me??’ I replied, completely gobsmacked. I mean where is the chivalry?? The common decency? The gawddamn manners??? If he had merely patted me on the the shoulder and said: ‘Excuse me young lady would you mind stepping to the side so I may pass through.’ I would have, of course, been happy to oblige. I may have even apologized. But nooooo…

By Friday I had had enough of these vagabonds disrupting my dream of urban euphoria. I just wanted to have a few innocent drinks and a good ol’ catch-up with my besty (let’s call her Arial) is that so wrong?

After dinner, Arial and I headed to a Jazz bar where a group of men dressed in black were standing outside the door – chatting away. Emphasis on CHATTING AWAY – not very professional in my opinion. Also I had had a few tumblers of wine. As we approached the entrance one of the guys dressed in black stood in our way.

Outside the bar (which I probably can’t name for legal reasons):

Guy: Hello.

Me: Hiya, is there an entry charge?

Guy: I think it’s five pounds? (unsure.)

Me: Is it actually five pounds?

Guy: I think so, yes.

Me: Sorry, do you actually work here? (genuinely unsure.)

Guy: Show me your ID.

Me: Would you mind if I see your security badge?

Guy: I’m not letting you in now.

At which point I was like – WTF!?

Me: Are you joking?

Guy: No. You are rude and have disrespected me. You can see I have a badge and am security.

Rude? Moi? He then showed me his security badge that had TWISTED round the back of his arm – HENCE WHY I DIDN’T SEE IT.

Me: I didn’t actually see your badge because it was twisted around your arm sooo –

Guy: Show me your ID?

Arial was about to produce her ID when I shot out my hand.

Me: (to Arial) NO! Don’t show him anything. (to Bouncer) No, we can’t show you our IDs.

Guy: Why?

Me: Why would we show you our IDs if you weren’t planning on letting us in?

Quizzically.

Guy: Show me your ID!

Me: No!

Guy: SHOW IT!

Me: No. If you want to see my ID you will have to prize it from my dead lifeless fingers.

Okay I made the dead lifeless fingers bit up – but that is the level of antagonism I was feeling at this moment.

(diaryofamoderndayspinster.blogspot.co.uk)

What I Really Said – Me: I am not going to show you my ID because, you sir have singlehandedly managed to put me off coming into this premises. So I am going to take my “five pounds” and my “drivers license” identification card and go somewhere else.

Guy: Fine darlin’, you do that.

Me: Fine, I will.

Guy: Great.

Me: Goodbye.

Guy: Goodbye.

And then I stormed off down the street.

End scene.

The next day I contemplated my behaviour. Was I in the wrong? Did I have an ‘attitude problem’? I guess I was a bit antagonistic. But what do I look like? Some kind of shit-taking machine?

This is London. London is full of bloody criminals. All I wanted to know was the entry fee. I wasn’t about to give money to a guy just because he was wearing all black and had big guns (arms – not artillery – although with London bouncers you can never be too sure!) What do you take me for??

As soon as Arial and I had turned the corner we began to laugh. This bouncer was definitely power tripping. Could I have handled the situation better? Probably. Do I regret my behavior? – No I don’t. And you know what, I walked away and we had a great night.

What’s the point of this blog post? I don’t know. Maybe the point is London is scary. There are a lot of criminals out there – there’s no point pretending there isn’t. People CAN be really really mean. But we do have a choice about how we react to these individuals. We can either metamorphosis into a complete wanker OR we can resist. As my dad would say (in a very strong cornish accent): ‘We can’t let the buggers get us down Yaz’. Okay – sometimes we might have to bust some balls, but more often than not, we can attempt to leave our homes in the morning with the attitude that there doesn’t need to be one more asshole let loose on the streets of London. Well that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. Anyway nuff rambling!

Have a great week peeps!