I am glad I am still alive.

I was trying to be smart to take the last train from London so that I would have longer time to spend in London, enough time to sleep en route and back home just in time and fresh to start doing work – not until I realized National Express fucked me up big time.

The train stopped at Doncaster at 1.30am and the earliest train to my place hits the railway at 6.30am. I had 5 hours to kill and for a while I was glad to see a waiting room illuminated to welcome and accommodate me all night.

Before long I tried to open a book a dear friend gave to me, a fluorescent vest-clad security told me to leave as the station is closing in 15 minutes. The tone was not that nice to be mentioned.

I asked him where can I sit and hang then, and his answer didn’t help much to my exhausted leg and worried ass  - anywhere but the station. And he didn’t even look at me. He had a long day, I tried to tell myself as I walked to find any spot to sit, wait and try to read.

The weather fares against me that night. It was stupidly cold and I have to dig in my bag for another layer of shirt to add to a towel to cover my ears. It was dark and suddenly I could see no one but the annoying security guy who had his eyes on me to make sure I didn’t get back in the station.

Lucky me, there was a shopping complex sit just next to the station to contain hungry and thirsty stomach of transiting voyagers. But they don’t do business at empty, cold and dark night of 0200 hours. So my hungry stomach had to wait.

But at least it has chairs for me to sit on and space for me to keep myself warm. And so I thought the night was over and I tried to flip a page of the book and read another in my sleep.

My dark Malay skin just couldn’t stand the cold so I hugged my knee as I tried to call it a day.

Not until someone woke me up and asked me to leave yet again. It was a cleaner this time who told me I was sleeping on the floor where his mop works and told me before the mop works on me, I better leave. And the tone was not helping either.

I wonder how much the price it was to be polite. I can still picture the angry face of the cleaner, pretty much like the infuriated look of Kevin Nash when he assaulted Chris Sabin before powerbombing the helpless battered guy.

I was too tired to think that I started to walk again, and the weather was not getting warmer. Funny thing I couldn’t reach anyone by phone and no one seemed to bother to reply my message.

Before long I thought I better have to stop being selfish – it was 2 in the morning and what was I thinking when I thought people would care to reply?

My leg was killing me. I have been walking for the past 2 weeks and I haven’t sleep on a proper bed for quite some time. Someone even told me that I have got myself unusual share of eye bag.

When the clock strikes three, I found myself leaning on a red brick wall with my bag sit closely. I tried to listen to my iPod but it was too cold to even put the earphone on. I let it played and all I can hear was hushed voice of John Lennon and Paul McCartney. I think they played Lovely Rita.

I then did what I do best; I talked to myself and started to tell stories. I heard my deep shaky voice I make when I am tired and don’t sleep much. I told myself to stop and John Lennon then played Please Mr. Postman for me. Again he was all whispering.

I tried to call a friend but came unanswered. I tried to text the other and decided not to wait for reply after 10 minutes.

Do you know Road Dogg and Billy Gunn? And once they have K-Kwik as their sidekick? They came to me right after that. Road Dogg was drunk and Billy Gunn was holding him. And that K-Kwik guy came howling at me, and started to make Billy Gunn clamoring at me as well.

I thought I was dreaming.

Billy Gunn walked towards me and K-Kwik was in stitches. Road Dogg was talking to the bottles.

I think I saw a knife.

I couldn’t explain to myself how my heart and leg could run that fast that night.

I was lucky to find a place to hide. I locked myself in a cold dark public toilet. I was not sure for what I shivered for – was it cold weather or fear, only God knows.

And suddenly I felt comfortable to put my head down.

That was the last thing I can remember before I realized it was 0600 hours and there’s a train waiting for me to send me home.

0730 hours, I was at home and the sun is about to go to work after leaving me alone for quite some time.

I never knew being small, lonely and cold were that harsh, until God told me that actually I have nothing to be proud of.

I woke up from my bed at 1400 hours. I saw reddish smudge around my eye bag. I think I cried in my sleep. I tried to find anyone who wants to listen, and the only person I could find was John Lennon. Good to meet you again after two weeks, John. How's the rest?

I am glad I am still alive and I am glad John Lennon is still alive to keep me company.