While on the train, there was a guy (about my age, I reckon) who was looking at a tube map. He muttered something and I said, "Pardon me?" He was actually speaking to himself, but then he asked me for directions to Heathrow. He was asking the wrong girl – I’m HOPELESS (98% of the time) on transit. I get on buses and go the wrong direction (true story). I could tell him for sure that the Picadilly line was done though… and that there *might* be a bus from Hammersmith to Heathrow (there was, I’m completely awesome). If nothing else, I assured him, he could take a cab from Hammersmith and at least it was closer to Heathrow than King’s Cross.
During our chat at one point he said, "It must be pretty scary riding the train at night alone." And I disagreed. I mean, I suppose it could be scary, but I wasn’t feeling frightened in the least. I never do. Now, don’t get me wrong… I don’t do (very) stupid things. I’m very cautious. But I’m very rarely afraid when moving about the city (or about a country, for that matter). Never have been (okay, I was vaguely frightened in Moscow, but I chalk that up to exhaustion at that point). I’m not sure why. I just never feel worry that I’m going to be a victim. Again, I’m not dumb… I know that bad things happen to good people (then again, I’m not always "good people" so maybe that’s what’s keeping me safe – HA!). But I don’t see the point of being afraid and worrying about things that haven’t even happened. And I’m glad I’m like that… my attitude and my ability to "walk unafraid" has allowed me to do some crazy and wonderful things over the last few years.
And now I’m glad I’m home safe and it is time for bed. You can tell I’m tired when I blog if I use a lot of parenthesis. And I have a new mattress pad that I can’t freaking WAIT to try out. If it is rad, I’m definitely blogging about it tomorrow.