The Mob.

I started a new job last week, which was pretty fantastic. But for the first time in a long time, it's meant that I've had to travel through Glasgow at rush hour. This is how I've become acquainted with the Mob.

You look confused. The Mob? What is this Mob? Everyone has met the Mob. It's the woman with the oversized handbag who slings it over her shoulder and hits you with it. It's the man in the business suit too busy talking on his phone to notice that you're trying to walk past him. It's the person who slinks onto the subway after you and nabs the seat you were heading towards right before you sit down.

Ah yes, you definitely know the Mob.

I have to make it plain that I'm fully aware that the Mob in Glasgow are definitely tamer than the Mobs of London or New York. I get so much rage when I go down to London that I'm pretty sure living there would be horrendous for my blood pressure. 

I've been told by my boyfriend that I suffer from a condition known as Pedestrian Rage. This basically means that I get overly angry when people walk slowly in front of me, or randomly stop and make me nearly trip over them, or walk straight into me without a single thought for my shoulder, or side of my body. Apparently it's wrong to want to scream at them that I am indeed a person, albeit a short one, and deserve to be treated as such. And apparently it's wrong to want to hit them really hard and teach them to actually be a decent human being.

I can feel myself getting angry already. Unfortunately, this doesn't mesh well with travelling at rush hour.

I can never understand why when the clock gets to around half past four, the good people of Glasgow suddenly become an angry horde. I'm pretty sure that if everyone just stayed as civil as they normally are, then the commute would be a hell of a lot nicer. 

What makes all this worse, is that this Mob are all in an incredible rush just to get home. I, on the other hand, am in a rush to get to work. If I'm late, I consider that a bit worse than if Miss-My-Shoes-Are-Too-High-And-I-Can't-Walk-In-Them-So-I-Am-Allowed-To-Shove-In-Front-Of-You-To-Get-On-The-Subway is a little late to get home and watch The Only Way Is Essex, or whatever.

And don't even get me started on how hot and stuffy all these people make the subway trains. With the crazy heat and thunderstorms we've been having in Glasgow lately, the subway can sometimes get nearly unbearable. Everywhere you go is stuffy, everyone around you smells really bad - which makes me paranoid that I in turn smell really bad when I get to work.

And with the heat come the awkward moments when you're sitting next to a woman on the train who is wearing a very see-through sarong with a split almost at her pants and you have to try desperately hard not to make even more awkward thigh contact. 

Despite all this, I do love Glasgow and I love working. But if anyone feels the need to generously donate me a car or helicopter, then by all means do so.