so i'm on the picaddily line - and if you don't know flying to europe - the flights from the east coast leave usually around 8 or 9 pm and with a 6 hour flight and 5 hour time change and another hour for customs and baggage claim you usually found yourself waiting for a train about 10 am local time.
You're tired and disoriented in the worst of ways and the last thing you want to do is to hear someone yaking away.
The Piccadily line runs from Heathrow all the way to the northeast fringes of London. We were staying with friends in a place called Barnett. The ride is a cruel 90 minutes but it's cheap and direct.
The train pulls up and goes through it's loop of heathrow . Apparently at the previous terminal an american princess who was going to school in London was being visited by her old high school friends. We were unfortunate enough to be sitting directly across from her. By the time we realized our mistake the car was full so moving wasn't an option.
She was talking about how much she loved London and how she was going to show her friends all of the sights. Except she wasn't just telling her friends. She was telling the entire train. English people aren't given to staring but the eye-rolling was abundant.
20 minutes into the trip the subject turns to Italy and the three young women begin swapping war stories punctuated with "like" and "ya'know" about every third word or so. Three people could not have projected the concept of privelege any better. A month in Venice, a few weeks in Rome, a weekend in Genoa. Mind you, i've been to a few of these places myself but i've also been working for ten years (as opposed to being 2 years out of high school.)
My two travel companions and I kept cringing at certain expressions they used. We kept silent the entire time so as not to be associated with the other three. Of course everyone on the train was keeping quiet because the three were being so loud that it was nearly impossible to converse with out being louder than the offenders.
15 minutes or so into the Italy discussion a cell phone rings. The would-be Londoner explains "ohh it's my MOW - buy-ul" The other two giggle. She is literally yelling into the phone that she and her friends will be there in a half hour or so and that the person on the other end should wait up for them. "oh, oh - we're about to go underground so i'm going to lose you"
The conversation then turns to clubs, bars, and boys. The "likes" begin to flow like Bass. The three of us resort to staring at them across our suitcases. They don't get it. They saw us get on at the airport and think we're just weary eyed, sleep deprived Brits unannoyed by their transgressions.
We're now approaching an hour into the trip and finally my friend (who has a sick South Jersey accent - it's Jersey all the way but it has that certain Philly touch to it) gives it her best shot and belts out "Yo! *pause/uncomfortable silence* what the f*** is wrong with you? You're in a confined public space. Shut up!"
complete silence - for the two visitors it's deafening and they seem to realize their mistake. The "local" doesn't get it. The offensive three turn to shoegazing.
I was waiting for applause as often happens under similar circumstances stateside. The look of our local passengers was more one of shock and awe that someone would actually be that confrontational with a total stranger and that it was one american scolding another. There were plenty of smiles and smirks to go around. Mostly from people who been on the train for the last half hour. Since we had already passed through Central London at that point we had lost nearly all of the original riders.
The entourage disembarked a stop or two later, careful to "mind the gap" i'm sure and hopefully their friggin' volume as well.
Unfortunately we still had a 1/2 hour to go.