Lickedy Split

In London last year, my best friend Cathy and I spent a fair amount of time on the Underground, where, in all fairness we were slightly wary because it was right after the train bombings in London. But you know, we're big girls so we sucked it up and everything was actually going fine until one day the gentle rocking of our train car came to a halt and we glanced up to find that our once crowded car was now empty with the exception of two odd looking, tattered suitcases sitting right across from us.

There was a quiet pause before Cathy cleared her throat. "Um, Lindsey...do you think maybe we should just get off here and grab the next train? You know...just in case."

I glanced down at the bags, "I'm sure it's nothing but yeah, maybe that's a good idea..." No sooner had the words left my mouth, that I realized I wasn't talking to Cathy, I was talking to the empty seat next to me.

I was alone.

In the car.

WITH the bags.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccckkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!

I swiveled around in my seat in time to catch a glimpse of Cathy's red hair on the other side of the window. Muttering a string of curse words, I grabbed my bag and hurried after her. I had one foot out the door when...WHAM! The train doors slammed closed on me. Leaving half of me dangling out of the train and the other half wiggling furiously on the inside. When the doors didn't re-open immediately...I started to panic.

Oh my god...is THIS how I'm going to die? Am I going to forever be known as the girl that died when her boobs got stuck in the train door?!

At get togethers people will say, do you remember Lindsey?

Lindsey who?

Lindsey...you know, that girl who got squashed to bits when her boobs got stuck on that train in London?

Oh Yeah!! THAT Lindsey! Yeah, I remember her.

So anyway, there I was, boobs squished in the door, foot dangling above the platform as Cathy tugged furiously on my free arm while I pushed, cursed and kicked with my other half...all the while secretly wishing I'd passed on that chocolate croissant at breakfast. Then, just as I'd begun to resign myself to estimating exactly how many things I'd go SPLAT against before I was knocked unconscious...the train gave an unceremonious WHOOSH and the doors released their deathgrip on my boobies and sent me tumbling to freedom.

I have to admit, despite the initial scare, it's one of the funniest stories I have to tell.