HAVE you ever had your sliding doors moment?
You know – the moment when you miss your tube and the plot of your life splits into two parallel universes?
And you’re left sitting there think about the details of the separated path your life would have taken?
No, me neither.
I am that person on the platform making sure I am getting on that tube, even if it means I am squashed up against a fat belly and underneath a smelly armpit. I didn’t get out of bed to miss my tube or have a sliding doors moment.
If I did, I would like my sliding doors moment to take me on a real adventure down the central line. No delays, my own seat, no sweaty people and free ice cream. Definitely free ice cream! Maybe I would even meet the love of my life on the Northern Line the other way. Or be forced to be unfaithful and have to get the bus or a taxi instead, and then miss out on meeting Prince Charming.
I can only hope I am where I’m meant to be at the right time, so that my sliding doors moment is a big thumbs up. I will miss my tube and get stuck talking to a Hollywood movie director who insists I am the star he has been looking for all his life, or the CEO of the BBC who begs me to read the national news.
Either way, I won’t mess with fate. I’ll continue to set my morning alarm, allow myself 12 minutes to get to the tube station to push past the dawdlers onto the platform. I will be standing behind that yellow line minding that gap and hoping that one day I have my very own perfect sliding doors moment.