Representative image
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Our defining moments often arrive when our best-laid plans are scuttled, and unseen hands seem to rule the roost. A famous footballer coined the phrase “Hand of God” after scoring a goal with a hand-punched ball.
Be it the grocery store checkout line or the vehicle toll booth, I have one dubious distinction of always finding myself in the slowest queue. You get the drift—the moment I switch to a seemingly faster line, it grinds to a halt, and then I am in the snail-pace lane. My daughters have witnessed and suffered this far too often and have christened me with the middle name Murphy.
I had to live up to that moniker, and of course, it happened in the most unexpected place – London. On a business trip in 2012, I was travelling by train from London Euston station to Macclesfield, via Manchester, for a client meeting. Trains in Western countries, especially in the UK, are known for their cleanliness and punctuality. Naturally, they chose me to prove them wrong!
It was a cold but sunny morning. The train was spotless, the passengers neatly dressed -- many in suits and hats, some biting into sandwiches, others sipping coffee, browsing newspapers, or lost in books. I sat by the window, across from an elderly woman who fit that quintessential picture.
About 15-20 minutes into the journey, as the view turned greener and the concrete of the city faded, chaos suddenly erupted. It sounded like stones pelting the train—frankly, like raining stones, a barrage of loud cracks and thuds. The train screeched to a halt. No one was allowed to alight, and the ticket collector came around, asking us to remain calm.
These trains run on overhead electric cables that had suddenly snapped for reasons unknown. It had never happened before -- but then again, Murphy was onboard. The snapping wires had created the racket that sounded like flying stones. Fortunately, a major accident was averted.
As the clock ticked and minutes stretched into hours, people needed to answer nature’s call -- both to empty and refill. The toilets soon overflowed and ran out of paper. Food packets were distributed, and before long, the bins overflowed with leftovers and boxes. This elderly lady across from me began to cry aloud. The air-conditioning shut down, leaving us all hot and irritable -- and some delirious. The scene could have been straight out of a disaster movie.
We were stranded for a long time before authorities announced another engine was being sent to tow us to the next station. Passengers were promised full refunds, and onwards journeys were rebooked at no extra cost — in exchange for the details we provided.
Eventually, I took a train back to London Euston and then took the Underground to my hotel. The ‘Murphy’ in me had been fully activated that day — and I lived up, once again, to my daughters' expectations.