I tapped the lady on the shoulder. “Excuse me, is this the line for the ticket machine?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I only just joined it a minute ago.”
I looked at my watch; there was time to wait. I stayed in line.
What was I going to have for breakfast? I’d already lied three times this week that I wasn’t relying on coffee and a muffin to give me the right start to the day. I should have stayed home longer, eating toasted muesli with sliced banana and perhaps some bio-active yoghurt. And green tea. Now I was hungry. I feared I would not have the correct level of glucoses and carbohydrates to get through the morning. Was the line even moving?
There was a young guy in front of me now, his short, already thinning hair sculpted into a glistening mountain range down the middle of his skull. “This is the ticket machine line, right?” I asked.
He jerked out his iPod earphones and ripped off his sunglasses. “What’s your problem mate? Can’t you see we’re standing in line?”
I took that as a “yes” and went back to waiting. If we didn’t get a move on though, that pile of work would have grown by the time I got in. I should have stayed back last night and not left in time to watch that TV show everyone is talking about. I can’t think of the name of it just now. Why didn’t I pack an apple, at least.
People were crossing through the line on their way somewhere else. The largest number of them always seemed to pass directly in front of me. When I stepped up to close the gap, a woman with dark roots and pyjama-clad children holding each hand was in front of me.
“Can you see how far we are from the ticket machine?”
“Does it look like I’ve got time to be doing that?” she said. “I’ve got my hands full right here.” With that she raised her hands, which left her two small children on tippy-toes as they tried to regain their balance.
“Does anyone know if there is a ticket machine anywhere in the vicinity?” I shouted. “I’m hungry and I need to get to work!”
“Honey, honey, “ came the reply. “You’re dreaming again. Go back to sleep, it’s 1am”
But I knew I wasn’t dreaming. They teach you that as early as primary school, that you don’t end a story with “it was all a dream”. Of course I knew that.