Deer

Black eyes. Black. Ever so black. There's a McDonald's around every corner here! Three (or was it two?) black stripes. White rump. Hungry for McDonald's? The lion is. But he's too lazy, so the lioness goes. Is it laziness though? That's what we think sitting on our high horses. But we aren't on high horses, we're in a Land Cruiser. Sitting pretty in a Toyota Land Cruiser.

McDonald's.

Long horns. Sometimes short. But usually long. What is long? How long is a piece of string? 14 cm they say. Centimetres? The moon? A sea? Fish. McDonald's.

Harems and bachelors. I like harems. I also like bachelors. Long horns. Very long horns. And sharp too. Sharp? Japan? Yes, we're in a Toyota Land Cruiser.

They can jump. Boy, can they jump? Almost like they have springs. Springboks. South Africa. Impalas.

Iceland

A shop that I generally notice on my daily runs is "Iceland", which, upon a bit of research, I found out is a grocery store. However, this company is quite uncommon in London, for I have only seen one of its kind, after travelling to many parts of the city. So today, I decided to see what the store was like. I am no stranger to Tesco, Sainsbury's, or even Marks and Spencer (when I have extra cash at hand, that is), so I had a good baseline to compare Iceland, to the more common grocery stores.

On the way back from my run, I slowed down as the store came ahead of me. It was located on the side of the main road, and it was pretty large. I stood at the entrance, and the sliding doors welcomed me in with a "whoosh". I immediately became aware that the store's inside was extremely cold; surprising since the outside temperature was probably 3 degrees Celsius. I chuckled, however, at how the store manager took the name of the shop literally, when he set the thermostat. I had no intention of purchasing any goods (mainly because I had no money at hand), but I wandered the isles anyways, mentally comparing the prices of items there to the prices found at the competitors' shelves. I was impressed, and I knew I had to tell my mother about the bargain prices found in this store.

I continued my venture inside Iceland, when I noticed something quite eerie. There were no other customers apart from myself. Now this astonished me. For a shop at the side of the main road, with great prices, I would expect it to be full, especially considering the time of the day. I did not let this deter me, and I continued to explore the contents of the shop. As I approached the back end of the building, I saw a flight of stair going down, with a board saying "Way to Iceland". I was flabbergasted; was I not already in Iceland? I looked around to see if any employees could clear my confusion, but since I could not find any, I decided to venture downstairs, to uncover what lay below.

As I walked down the stairs, I felt the temperature creep down even lower than before. The air in front of me fogged up, and the tips of my ears and fingers began to throb. Disregarding the discomfort, I trudged down the final steps, when, all of a sudden, I slipped, and came crashing down and my back! I tried getting up, but the ground was too slippery. So, I used the stairway banister behind me, to hoist up my bruised self. Once I had regained my balance, I looked around, and lo and behold, in front of me was a floor of ice. More precisely, ice land.

The entire situation baffled me, and wanting to find out answers, I climbed back up the stairs, heading to the check out counter, to figure out the purpose of the icy land down below. However, when I reached back to the ground floor, a security guard grabbed a hold of me roughly and said, "hey! The store is closing now. You have to leave!". I protested, and replied, "sure, but could you tell me why the ground is covered with ice down stairs?". The man said, "sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. You really must leave now, sir". In my confused state, I let the man take me to the exit of the store. "I hope you shop with us again soon. Good bye". And with that, the sliding doors closed behind me.

I was desperate to find the answer to why the ground was covered with ice, at the basement level of Iceland, so I planned to visit again the next day, at the opening hour, to solve the mystery.

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Edit: I walked into the store at 10 am the next morning, and I immediately headed down to the back of the store. Surprisingly, the board sign I saw the day before was replaced with "Staff Only. No Entry for Customers". Despite this, I climbed down the stairs, to see the icy land again. But, it was gone! The ground was ground again, and the room was filled with containers, of what I guessed was unopened stock. I was stunned, when an employee saw me and said, "mate, you're not supposed to be here, ye". I stuttered, and replied, "sorry, but where did the ice floor go?". The moment I asked the question, I knew I must have sounded like a lunatic. And the employee thought the same. "Ya tryin' ta have a crack at me, mate? Well, how 'bout ya get back up the stairs and out of ma store! I don't want no loonies here in my establishment, so get out before I call the security, ye!" I was scared, so I rushed back up the stairs, and quickly left Iceland. I still do not know the mystery behind the ice land below.

X Trim Studios

Another day, another run. I decided to follow my usual route again, down the main road, and close to Swiss Cottage station. After a quick burst of running, I cooled down by walking along a side road, that I had almost missed, if not for a fascinating  building I saw along the path. At first glance, the building seemed quite familiar, and I was not able to put my finger on where I had seen it before. The mystery gave me a bit of adrenaline, and I rushed towards the structure.

It was evident I had approached the building from the back, since I only saw large garbage cans, drainage pipes, and exhaust pipes. I looked to both my left and right, trying to figure out the best way to get a better look at the building, and hopefully, find its purpose, as well as unraveling the reason why it looked so familiar. I decided to take my chances with turning right, and I rounded the two corners, before I came face to face with a massive sign saying "X Trim Studios - 18+ Only".

"AH! A gym!", I thought to myself. But even as I tried to fit this jigsaw piece into the puzzle, I knew that it wasn't exactly the final part of the bigger picture. I still had a gnawing feeling that this building, and perhaps what was inside, was something I have been accustomed to seeing. But I still was not too sure what it was. So, seeing as I was 18, I decided to take my chance, and I walked inside.

The smell inside suffocated me instantaneously. I was a stranger to gyms (as anyone could tell looking at my physique), but I was able to handle the smell of sweat pretty well, since I myself profusely sweat whenever my heartbeat rises over 60 bpm. But this smell was a more primitive form of sweat. It was of a rawer kind, which one gets after a crazy night with their significant other (not that I would know, of course).

And it was this smell that allowed me to finally solve the mystery. It is often said that smell invokes the most powerful memories. For me, it invoked a memory of something I had not experienced, but I had seen countless times on the screen. X Trim Studios was not a gymnasium. Rather, it was an adult movie set. I was standing just inside the building when this realisation came to me, and I was thankful of it. With a quick turn around, I went out the way I entered, and ran back home, with a new purpose on mind.

The Refugee

I never expected it. I couldn’t figure out how we started talking. One moment, he was there, and I was there. Before that, I was walking alone. Now, I was talking to him.
He looked like the classic non-Turkish person you are likely to encounter in this country these days: skin tanned from the Middle Eastern sun, ragged clothes. A refugee, most likely Syrian. Except, there was something different with this man, something in his brightened face when he saw me, something in his smile. It was as if I was sent to him by God.
He asked me how he could get to Ankara, the capital city, about a day’s drive away from Istanbul. Somehow, I quickly became accustomed to his company, as if we’d met sometime before. He told me that he was a refugee from Gaza, who had flown to Istanbul, using the funds raised in Turkey. He told me about his son in a hospital, who was injured from the attacks down in Gaza, which was the main reason they had probably come to this country. He showed me his passport, weary and wrinkly, completed with a Palestinian flag. He talked of a bus company, of a bus ticket to Ankara, and stated he needed money. I promptly told him I couldn’t provide the money. The people on the streets were not angels, and neither was I obliged to give any money to them. Despite the fact that money ran the world, I didn’t want to discuss money with this man.
He had obviously suffered, but he had a strange aura of happiness and optimism about him. He smiled. He showed me how much he had sweated, since he had been walking for so long. He told me that “we are brothers”. I didn’t mention to him that I was agnostic and irreligious. The brotherhood was not religious, but humane this time. I imagined somehow fixing him his bus, and helping him through his journey. I knew I couldn’t, so I didn’t want to linger on for long. I lent him just enough money to enjoy a cheap meal, or buy a few bottles of water. I told him I couldn’t help him. I started walking and didn’t turn back. I wondered if he followed me. I wondered what he thought about me. I wondered what I thought of him. He was one of those people the world was talking about. Politicians, political commentators, they all spoke of this man’s life. He was human. He wanted his son to live. I walked on.

The London Dead Bus: A Short Story

It has been a long time since I last wrote about my experience running around London, and my weighing scale clearly shows it. It was unfortunate that on the day I felt inspired to run for hours on end, I was met with my greatest fear as a pedestrian in London.

I was following the path of Bus 13 south, towards St John's Wood station. It was customary for me to run on the right hand side of the road, as advised by my esteemed PE teacher, so that I was aware of the happenings on the road. However, there was this one unfortunate fool who did not know about my wise educator's methodology, and made the worst, and last mistake of his life, by running alongside the road / pavement boundary with his back towards the oncoming traffic.

The whole scene happened in the blink of my eye. I could see the man keeping a steady pace running towards me, and out of the corner of my eye, I could also see Bus 13 hurdling it's way on the bus lane. At the moment the front of the bus passed the runner, the man tripped and slipped towards his right, putting his head in the path of the red bus. With a sickening thud, I heard the man's neck snap as the bus's left side view mirror made contact.

I wondered why the runner's head was getting larger and larger even though his body remained motionless. And then it hit me. Literally. The force of the collision decapitated the man, and his head was the ball to the bus's mirror. In a matter of milliseconds, the runner's head transfered from his neck to my hands. I could feel the bile going up my throat and soon the countenance resting on my arms was covered with a thick layer of my breakfast.

This experience has definitely deterred my desire to continue running regularly. I still enjoy the wind blowing through my clothes, and the sun rays beating down on my ever increasing bald spot. However I decided to take another break from my passion until the tragedy escaped my memories.

The Ring Heist

I was running along my usual path, following the Northern line tube stations to make up a 10k run. As I was running, I could feel a light breeze behind me, and the evening glow of the sun opened up a path before me. I felt highly liberated and a sudden burst of energy ran through me. I did not feel like complying with the rules, so I decided to veer off my normal course, and I ran down the first turn off I saw. It was by chance that this road led me to a highly dangerous area, with many people eyeing me suspiciously as I ran past. I wasn't too worried, since I had the advantage of speed, so I continued along the road without a care on mind. Unfortunately, my exuberance was put to a halt when I came to a crossing and was forced to stop because of the traffic. It was then I felt the butt of a gun against my back, and holding the gun (I saw later), was a caucasian gentleman (he looked like one, with his suit and top hat) of mid fifties, and a mean expression.

He quietly, but in another way loudly, whispered to me, "don't say a word and walk down this road". I had no choice but to comply. Soon, the road ended as a cul-de-sac, and it was then the man asked for all my valuables. There was good news and bad news to this story. The good news was I don't run with any electronics (my phone, iPod, etc) nor do I go with any money. However, the bad news was that I was wearing my new ring, which I got from my home country (I may follow this post up with another story of how I got this ring). I was certainly not interested on giving it up, so I had to think on my feet to get out of this situation with my ring still with me, and all my fingers still attached to my hand.

"I am sorry, my good sir. I have nothing of high monetary value on me", I told him. He quickly patted me down, and spent a deal longer around my crotch area. He then let out a gruff sound as his eyes strayed down to my hand. "Give me your ring, dearie" he commanded. I already had a plan on mind to get out of this pickle. "Oh this!" I said bringing up my hand, "this is nothing but a plastic ring I purchased from a plumbing store to fix my toilet sink!" He looked at me with a face of disbelief. I took his moment of hesitation to add to this false episode. "If you want I can take you to where I bought it. Maybe I can also buy you one!" I regretted adding the second part in case he was angered by my cheekiness. Thankfully, he accepted the story. But not in the way I wanted. "Okay. Take me to the shop. I want to see for myself".

My surprise for his request did not lessen as we walked together to the nearest plumbing story I remembered seeing. Why would he ask to see the store?, I thought. If the crook was really smart, he would have taken the ring regardless and walked away. He must be a bit of a dim-wit, I said to myself. Soon, we approached a shop with a flashing neon light that read "ABUBAKER'S PLUMBING AND SUNDRY". I walked into the store, hoping that the storekeeper had the sense to play along with my story.

When the perp gave me a nudge with the gun which was hidden in his jacket pocket, I said to the man at the counter, "good evening. I believe I purchased this ring at your store. This gentleman behind me is also interested in making a similar purchase". As I said this, I removed the ring, and softly tapped it on the counter, to the sound of the morse code for SOS. The merchant, who I later learnt was Abubaker himself, seemed to understand. "Ah, yes. I remember selling this to you, but I think I have run out of stock. Let me check inside to see if I have more". He quickly (as quickly as his stumped leg would allow him to) bustled through a small door behind the counter. I turned around and smiled at the gunman. "My story checks out! If you walk away from the store, I will forget about all of this, and we can move on our merry ways". The man stared hard at me, and my initial thoughts about his inferior intellect was confirmed. "No, I want to see the same ring in this shop before I go away".

And it was then a large dark-skinned man walked through the door. His frame towered over us, and his mass would have made any hard-core gym user proud. With a quick lunge, a speed much greater than I thought a man of his build could move at, he pulled the gunman to the ground, and disarmed him with a snap of his hands. It was all over before it had even begun, and the security guard had subdued the perpetrator in mere seconds. Shortly, the guard picked the perp up, as though he was a twig, and threw him into a large crate in the store.

I had grown tired with all the affairs, so I had to reject Abubaker's kind offer of tea and biscuits. With a salute to the security guard (I thought it was a good idea then), I ran out of the store, and didn't stop running until I got back home.