Glasgow Boy

For someone who’s used to the London Underground, using the Subway in Glasgow is like stepping into a different world. Travelling with kids just after the morning rush hour, a woman dressed in orange warmly welcomed us all to the station concourse, engaged in chit chat, and then immediately offered us assistance to ensure we purchased the best value tickets for today. The guy at the window then sold me a day pass that gave me change from a fiver, with the kids only being a couple of quid each as well. The train then arrived and there’s a sort of unwritten code where people ensure that those who were on the platform before them board the train first, as opposed to ‘elbows out, f**k you, and last one on board’s a massive sissy.’ You sit on the train and people sometimes actually want to talk to you instead of just glaring at you like they want you to spontaneously evaporate because you had the sheer nerve to get on the same train as them. ‘Here mate I’ll move so you can sit with your kids’ instead of not bothering so you end up getting off at Kings Cross with three of them by your side while the other one merrily wings their way to Cockfosters. Finally, when you reach the other end and get to the ticket barrier, your mobile phone wallet hasn’t knackered the magnetic strip on the back of the ticket because there isn’t one - the cardboard has built-in NFC or whatever so you just tap it, the gate opens, and then you piss off and get on with the rest of your day. Yeah, I know Glasgow’s subway is way, way smaller and there’s only two lines - an ‘outie’ and in ‘innie’ that both go round in a circle in opposite directions so if you get bladdered and fall asleep you’ll always eventually end up where you need to be. However, I didn’t leave the network feeling like I wanted to twat someone or emigrate to Greenland, which unfortunately is something I experience on The Tube more often than not.