I had been thinking about posting Oslonians, an ebook I wrote in 2011 that was published on the now-defunct, exceptional, Pangur Ban Party. When I revisited it though I found a way to rework it. Itās very different now, containing both more and less of myself. The one published was very much a travel piece, but I think it now works on some other levels too. Iām happier with it. The original version of Oslonians was written with the single intention of submitting it to PBP - I really wanted to have something published there, as it had already published so many great ebooks that I was fond of. Itās a terrible motivation for writing. Like most of what I write, I grew to hate it out of embarrassment. Another dead website (I think) did a series of PBP authors reviewing their own work. I couldnāt find what I sent but found this āprologueā I wrote but never did anything with. It was 3000 words but Iāve cut it down.
I left my bedsit for the train station two hours before I had originally intended. It had been snowing heavily the previous night and although it had now stopped train delays were beyond doubt.
I walked down the hill, treading firmly against the smoothly frozen, now slippery snow. Across the road, three men around the same age as me were walking. I saw them, they saw me. We were parallel, then they were behind me. Snow splattered against the wall. I thought about how embarrassing it would have been if it had hit me in the side of the head, but did not think about why they had decided to throw a snowball at me, someone they did not know. It is the kind of thing that has often happened to me since I was a child. I donāt know why. I carried on walking.
At Tottenham Hale, I called my girlfriend. She had just arrived at St. Pancras. It would be a while before she arrived. I walked around Asda, not looking for anything in particular. In one section they had info-mercials playing on small screens. Many info-mercials were playing at the same time, all with the same voice over guy; it sounded like some horrible, demented stream of consciousness. I watched one info-mercial for something called a Snuggie, which was like a blanket with sleeves. They made a great deal about the fact that it had sleeves which meant you could do things like talk on the phone.
It had been two weeks since I had last seen my girlfriend and we talked a lot. When we boarded the train, most of the double seats were taken. We found two seats facing backwards in a table booth. Opposite us was a middle-aged woman wearing a black woolly hat, which I imagined was covering a bald head as no hair could be seen. During the journey I felt self-conscious of her presence as we spoke and I found it difficult to talk properly to my girlfriend without feeling like I was censoring myself. Before she left, I half expected her to lean across and speak her opinion on something we had been talking about. But as she got up to leave she smiled. āYouāre both very lucky,ā she said. My girlfriend and I laughed nervously. She turned into the aisle before turning back around to us. āHave a merry Christmas,ā she said. It is one of my favourite memories of when we were together.
After my money was changed we went to look for food. We still had another seven hours before the flight. We went into a spar and my girlfriend started looking through different kinds of food she could and couldnāt eat. We ended up sitting down next to a photobooth, the gigantic head of the passport photo model looming above us. We curled up on the hard surface of the airport floor. I took off my coat and put it over me like a blanket. āWhat would be good is a blanket,ā I said. āBut then I would be restricted by not having sleeves. Thatās what makes a Snuggie so great! The warmth of a blanket with the freedom of sleeves. And a Snuggie doesnāt fall off when you get up, because it has sleeves!ā Soon I could hear my girlfriend snoring. I lay next to her, feeling the bone of my hip press awkwardly against the floor. I waited until one a.m. then sat up and started reading.
We went to the boarding gate. My girlfriend started telling me about a racist man at a bus stop that she saw when she was going to pick up a friend. I accused her of never picking me up or dropping me off from the station when I went to visit. She defended herself by saying that her friend had no sense of direction. She seemed upset and distressed by my accusation. I felt bad for my hours of jealousy in which I had thought about her going to pick up another man from the train station while she had never done so with me. She said she would pick me up next time if I wanted, but I told her not to worry about it and I was just trying to be funny, even though truthfully I wanted her to.
Everyone finished boarding the plane and putting their stuff in the overhead space. I needed the toilet. One of the cabin crew started explaining what to do in an emergency situation; I started pacing my feet backwards and forward. I still needed the toilet. After she finished talking, I kept waiting. There was no way I could go to the toilet now, I thought. I started thinking about what would happen if I pissed myself. I started playing the scenario in my head, taking my luggage out from the overhead compartment and putting my coat over my lap as I changed out of my wet jeans and into a new pair. I thought about walking down the aisle with a massive wet patch around my crotch, being extremely embarrassed. I looked over at my girlfriend. She was asleep. A child in front started yelling, āWeāre going to Sweden!ā Sweden? I thought. Were we on the wrong flight? I was confused, anxious and I really needed the toilet. My pulse quickened. I thought to myself, If I pass out now then no one can blame me for pissing myself. I tried to breathe slowly and calm myself down. I told myself how good it would feel to finally be able to go to the toilet after needing to go for so long. A voice came on the overhead speakers. It was the pilot, telling us we would have to wait another twenty minutes before our flight left because of the snow. I grabbed my girlfriendās arm and told her what was going on. She woke up. I asked her what button I had to press to call a flight attendant. She said she didnāt know. I pushed a button above my head and a flight attendant came. I asked if we could use the toilets seeing as the plane wasnāt taking off. She looked confused then told me there were toilets at the back of the plane. I undid my belt and jogged down to the back of the plane where there were two toilets. Both of them were locked. There were two flight attendants and I asked them if I could use the toilets. They said I could, but that other people were using them at the minute. It then seemed that I could have gone to the toilet whenever I wanted to. I needed the toilet less now. I was not as agitated. I felt like an idiot, but I was calm. When I got back to my seat I was in a state of near euphoria. I was still convinced we were on the wrong plane but I decided that if we ended up in Sweden we could get a train or coach to Oslo and we would get to see a lot of the country. We took off an hour after we were supposed to.
Just before take off I lent to look out the window and told my girlfriend, āIf I stay like this when we take off my face wills be pressed into your face through sheer g-force.ā I then pressed my face into hers and kissed her. The plane lifted up off the ground and my ears popped. Then I fell asleep. When I woke up we were in Norway.
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