“I now pronounce Liam Bartlett and Jennifer Lopez to be husband and wife” I was so excited when the priest whose name I do not recall belted out those words. I was filled with such a large amount of joy and cheer that I didn’t know what to do next, I was static to the floor in the huge gothic church in front of the altar. The priest’s voice was so soft and the next sounds I heard just floated out of his mouth through the air. “You may kiss the bride” These words, said by the old priest, were like music to my ears. I leant over and removed the veil from my new wife’s beautiful face and kissed her.
It was heavenly. I was thrilled that I had achieved my life long goal of marrying Jennifer Lopez. Infact I was so ecstatic that I remember thinking that it was all my imagination and that I must have been dreaming when I married Jennifer Lopez. Sadly, my theory was correct and the marriage was just a dream. I remember my Bart Simpson alarm clock on my bedside cabinet adjacent to my bed shrieking out the sound of “hey man, eat my shorts” over and over again. The marriage to Jennifer Lopez was all a dream and it was time to check back into the real world and get ready for my first day of work experience.
I didn’t particularly mind that the marriage was a dream because I didn’t think that the marriage would have worked out any way. After all I am only fifteen and she is double my age. Anyway if we did get married we would have broken up at the party afterwards because she is a popstar and so when I showed her up on the karaoke machine, which wouldn’t be too difficult, she would be very infuriated and would probably throw one of those celebrity tantrums that I often read about in the newspapers. I was extremely terrified at the thought of commuting to work and meeting new people in a strange place.
I had butterflies in my stomach and it felt like they were carrying petite axes and were attempting to hack their way through my stomach wall to freedom. I got dressed into my work robes that consisted of an old ripped pair of jeans and an old tatty Nike t-shirt which was covered in an unidentified grimey substance, and just before I left home to start my working career as a grease monkey, or an ‘automobile engineer’ as the company I was working for put it, I stood in front of a large mirror with a silver frame around the edges of the glass, which is situated in my medium sized bedroom.
I gazed at myself in the mirror and said to myself, “come on Liam, you can do this! You’re a tiger, you’re a lethal weapon like Mel Gibson! ” After reassuring myself with these unwise words of wisdom, I took a deep breath, switched off my bedroom light and headed out into the big World to start a career in the field of automobile engineering, or as I like to put it, making tea. I started the long walk to Wimbledon Chase train station and on the way I wondered what my many friends were doing at that moment in time.
I assured myself that they were most probably nervous too and that I was worrying about nothing and I would be fine at work. I walked into the station and bought my return ticket from an orange shabby old machine that had half of the buttons missing. Of course me being Mr lucky, the button for the station that I wanted to commute to was missing. I had to buy a return ticket that was valid up until the station after the one that I was travelling to. This of course meant that I had to pay more money than I usually should have had to pay.
The machine printed out my tickets but then forgot to present to me my change. Frustrated, tired and cold I made my way to platform two. I walked up the steps onto the overly crowded, heavily vandalized platform that was covered in graffiti. I gazed at the train time information board and saw that the next train was due to arrive approximately two minutes later. I strolled along the platform and found a seat on a bench halfway along the platform. I sat down next to an elderly woman that was wearing a red scarf and a bright green woolly hat, which damaged my eyes when I looked at it.
The elderly woman, in my opinion, smelt of a mix between mouldy cheese and cat food. After a while the stench of the peculiar old woman became too much for me to handle and so I stood up and paced the length of the platform again. After travelling the length of the platform a few times the following muffled announcement was made by a woman with an extremely high pitched yet manly voice, ” I regret to inform you, but I have received information that the next southbound train destination Sutton is running approximately 25 minutes late.
I apologise for any inconvenience caused. ” I looked at my watch in disbelief to see that I was due to arrive at work in 20 minutes time, which meant that I would already be five minutes late when the train finally did arrive at the station, not to mention the time it would take on the train and the time needed to walk from St Helier station to my work experience placement. After this announcement was made more than three quarters of the citizens waiting for a train left the station in a last attempt to find a different route to work.
Thankfully the bizarre old women that I had to sit next to earlier left too, meaning that I could sit on the bench for a second time but on this occasion in peace and without having to put up with her foul stench. The hands on my watch seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace and the 25 minutes in the freezing weather passed extremely slowly with the minutes seeming as hours. Finally the twenty-five minute wait had come to an end and the South West Trains train arrived 27 minutes late.
I managed to fight my way on to the immensely overcrowded scrap heap of a train and bustled my way through the carriage to find some standing space as all the seats were taken. I looked around the carriage to see that the floor was absolutely sheltered with litter. There was dried chewing gum stuck to the floor, crisp packets everywhere and polystyrene cups that were earlier filled with coffee to wake up the commuters before they start work.
The carriage also stunk of what seemed to be urine. In my head at the time I was thinking how much of a scandal the Public Transport facilities actually are and how I had failed to notice it before. If I were Tony Blair I would definitely sack the London Transport minister because he is a disgrace just like the Public Transport system that he is in charge of. The condition of the train was so poor that I wouldn’t allow a dog to sleep inside it.