My travels to England were long wearisome and very comical to me this time. It started off with me sitting at the train station waiting with my luggage to catch the train to the aiport. When the train came I was in a very calm mood. I new it was the right train, and nothing to rush about, it was right there in front of me.  I casually walked over reading off the the list of names on the different cars not letting my self be bothered by the Indians rushing past me in a frenzy to board the train in time. I did get a bit nervous when the doors of the car I was supposed to be on were shut, and so were the next car. I walked farther down the train away from where I was supposed to board looking for a spot to get on, the next door had a crowd of people all trying to jam thereselves in at once while three of the men were yelling and shoving everyone out of the way trying to load huge steel chests into impossible small entry ways. I walked past that door and down a few more cars where only a few people were getting on, and almost started to step up when one of the men with the steel chests shoved his way in front of me. I started to get a little anxious when I saw the panic in his eyes. I walked much quicker to the next car and got to the door as the train started moving, the entry way of the door was so crowded that bodies were coming out the door. I hesitated while fear started  to attack my brain with scenarios. Scenarios of missing my train, or trying to jump on and getting hurt, smashing into the side of a tunnel, even though there weren’t any around and the train was still moving slowly. So I stopped thinking and jumped on with my huge traveling backpacks attached to me making me heavy.  Me and about ten Indian men behind me squeezed in like marshmallows. As the men behind me were climbing on I was getting shoved into a pile of luggage, my right leg straddling a huge suitcase and my left leg getting left behind as my upper body kept moving forward. I looked around me at all the faces, all looking at me observing my frenzied face and I could have burst out in stress relieving tears but instead I saw the situation for what it was, very very funny and I began to laugh. Eventually a very nice man (a hero in my eyes)  helped me through the packed Indian aisle while carrying my huge backpack, and we pushed  and shoved ourselves all the way through to my car. The rest of the sweaty ride I was taken care of with people feeding me chapatis full of subji (vegetables) and tart mango chutney, buying me mountain dew and water, even though I didn’t ask, and begging me to come to there home for a visit.

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