safety first

Last night, on my way to the Auberge bar and getting really close, I stepped out of the London Bridge tube station. Just one more street remained to be crossed. I dodged a bus making a precarious swing for the stop and two cyclist appearing out of the dark without so much as a warning when suddenly my head was hit by a most violent gale of wind. My head didn't care. It's firmly connected to my body, but my cap wasn't so lucky. With one ripping dash, it took off and sailed, or rather speedboated, into the night.

When I turned to follow it with my eyes, all I saw was a bus shelter, a splotch of light against a black background, populated by tired commuters. A split second later, the cap struck the glass back wall like an expertly planted squash ball. With a loud bang, it bounced off and around the shelter. The people waiting for the bus who had just been narrowly avoiding double decapitation just stared, shocked and speechless, their mouths agape and their eyes filled with terrified incomprehension. With my cap still flying far and fast, I didn't have time to apologize or explain the situation.

I dashed around the shelter and there it was, obstinately banging into the vast expanse of brick that is London Bridge Station, with effort but in vain. When I reached the wall, my cap finally settled down into the dust. It seemed to look up to me with perfect innocence when I picked it up, as if to say, wasn't me. Nevertheless, seeing my cap, bullet-like, strike at a little crowed was one of the scariest experiences I've had in the streets of London.

I've been lucky so far, I guess. The only time I came dangerously close to bodily harm was on my way to work one day. I was trailing a garbage truck on Kensington High St., getting ready to pass. To make sure one of these stealthy Priuses wasn't sneaking up on my, I briefly glanced over my shoulder. It was safe to go. When I looked back, the garbage truck was huge and in my face, ready to swallow me skin and bones. I came within inches of colliding and catapulting myself into its putrid load. It wouldn't have hurt so much but been disgusting and seriously embarrassing.

I had to think of this story when I saw this amazing movie produced by Transport for London to promote cycle safety. Being seen is all and well, but in a place like London, nothing beats being on your toes and watching out for yourself.