Every person you’ll see on the Glasgow subway

The subway reminds me why I hate humanity.

If you were to take a Martian for a ride on one of the circles, he be the least unusual person there. Luckily, my hatred for the wretched species known as the human race allows me to scientifically categorise these people into six categories.

The old person

You feel bad every time you see one, no matter the circumstance. Even if they look perfectly happy to be there, you feel bad. The poor sod must be demented to appear happy on the subway. They’re just sitting there, vacantly, with their string bag full of groceries.

The hipster

As I sit here to write this, with hate in my heart and contempt for the city of Glasgow on my mind, hipsters are to blame. I look back to an innocent, simple and happy time before I sat across from hipsters on the subway.

I was tempted to capture one and lock him in a cage – I’m sure the scientific community would kill for a hipster sample as pure as this. He was the type of person who makes you feel deeply, deeply ashamed to be studying the arts. His clothes were covered in paint and he was reading War and Peace. His outfit consisted of green tartan trousers with beige puma trainers, and an old oversized fleece. I thought it couldn’t get any worse but then he stood up to get off and I saw his backpack was covered in badges.

I am officially nominating him for The Tab Glasgow’s Best Dressed.

He probably looks like this

The one true love of your life

After that rant, it’s time for the person you see that makes your heart stop. They’re gorgeous – perfect in every way. You have just enough time to think about how you’ll spend the rest of your lives together when they get up at the stop just before yours and vanish forever.

This usually happens once a week.

Who is my next love victim?

The lunatic

Even the native Glaswegians have to work hard to decipher the junkie who gets on and starts rambling about something or other and then starts shouting at everyone for not being considerate to those around them. There’s also the questionable drunkard who stumbles on, clutching a bottle of Bucky and you spend the rest of your journey avoiding eye contact in case you don’t make it to Hillhead alive.

Sure

Your seminar tutor

The one thing worse than getting on with the resident lunatic is getting on and seeing your seminar tutor. You saw them for sure but did they see you? Did you just think that or say it out loud? Did they hear you? The moment you actually realise they have lives outside of uni is a scary one.

Personally, I always carry a cap with me in case scenarios such as this arise when I’m forced to make eye-contact with tutors or anyone else I’m mildly acquainted with. I also enjoy the attention I get from people thinking I must be edgy or dangerous for wearing a cap on public transport.

The guy who sits there in a cap, judging people

Which brings me to this guy. Even though you’re sitting there, in a cap, it’s so obvious that you’re a secret starer. Stop pretending like you’re looking at the adverts when you’re really checking out everyone’s outfits and inwardly assessing folk. Not cool.

The ned 

You know the one. Nike Air Maxes. Adidas zip thru with matching trackies. Hair braids and some sort of questionable-looking piercing on their face. Will most likely get off at Govan.