Keeping Karma in a Crisis.

I’m a real believer in the whole ‘one good deed a day’ thing. Be it paying someone a simple compliment, providing physical help or simply just giving advice, I feel it’s the most selfless way of being subtly selfish- especially if you believe in Karma. The definition of Karma runs along the lines of: ‘the effects of a person's actions that determine his or her destiny.’ So if you do good things to others, good things will happen to you.

Today I travelled back from Birmingham having witnessed the mighty punk band Green Day at the LG Arena. Fantastic night, except for the fact that linking trains are useless, late and so, so unreliable. I therefore arrived at the LG Arena with only minutes to spare and, within those 10 minutes before the Californian Trio bounded on stage, the zoom function on my camera broke. Some could argue that, if I’m loosely basing this around Karma, this misfortune derives from a negative action of mine in the last couple of hours. You could say that playing a particularly amusing scene from Sasha Baron Cohen’s ‘Borat’ in my head- the one with the shape shifting Jews- whilst a Jewish man sold me one of the thousand of train tickets I bought that night- may justify this predicament. I just call it rotten luck. I’ll let Karma off there, as I have nothing against Jews.

In the morning I decided to leave the abode at which I had crashed at 8am. My good friend Luke and I left for Birmingham New Street and, oh joy, embarked on further linking trains to get to the City from our friend’s house in suburbia. My reasoning behind an earlier train was simple- I couldn’t bear the thought of missing one of my biweekly sessions with Ken ‘The Deformation Deviant’ Brown. I genuinely wanted to go. Does that not omit positivity towards my lecturer and a subject that frankly is a little dull? Surely Karma Kudos there.

So I had breakfast and bid a tearful farewell to Luke. I was roughly 40 minutes into my voyage home, 2 hours earlier than planned- on Richard’s very own ‘safest trains in the world,’ and therefore never once feared for my life- when I was approached by the stewardess checking tickets. Up to that point I also never once feared for my future as a passenger on that particular journey as, law abiding and responsible citizen that I am, I, of course, produced a valid ticket for the return leg of my trip. I handed her my papers with a smile. I’d used my brand new Student Railcard for the first time for ‘Advance Tickets’ and in the end benefited from a good deal. Only I wasn’t aware that I couldn’t escape Brum on an earlier train, due to the fact that the discount was for a middle of the day journey only. I was told by the stewardess, albeit politely, that if I didn’t jiggy jet off the vehicle pronto I would incur a fine of £50. That’s what I refer to as Karma ‘kicking you in the balls.’ There I was, eager to return to dear Ken to hear about the world of crime when I was accused of being a criminal myself. I had to get off at the next station.

Next thing I knew I was stranded in ‘Banbury,’- which, according to an outside source, contains ‘an awful lot of houses’- and is a place I literally have never heard of. The station is pleasant enough and I treated myself to a coffee and enjoyed nearly 2 hours of relentless yelping from Mrs. Dawn Johnson as I scribbled her outlines. Eventually sick of that I ventured down to the platform to check when I’d have my freedom once again. Suddenly I spotted a small square piece of thick, brown leather teasing me from a bench. As if to apologise for causing me to let the poor Ken down and offering up a whole new opportunity for me to do my good deed for the day, Karma had presented me with a rather expensive looking wallet.

I sat by said article and pretended to pick it up as if it were mine- I’d certainly had enough of being accused of petty crime for one day. The wallet was Gant, just like my own, so was of high quality and contained £40 in notes and some Euros. I mused for a moment but decided to do the honorable thing and hand it in. As if to further giggle wildly at my luck, the wallet had just 30p in change in it. I had minutes before that kicked myself for not possessing enough change to buy a paper and it seemed that German student ‘Johan’ did not have sufficient coinage either. And I feel splitting a note and leaving the change would just be, well, rude.

“Do you want to become a millionaire!?” the guy at the information desk gasped, fanning the half dozen credit cards from a pocket I had overlooked. Evidently not, I thought, as I stared longingly at today’s Times on the shelf. Feeling gutted but selfishly selfless I made my way to the platform- still too early for my train- to collect my Karma Kudos, in whatever form it was going to come. A rather stunning girl crossed my path and smiled- even glancing back for a second- but continued walking. That wasn’t kudos… that was mean. I was then approached by a crazed middle aged man frantically screaming in my face. “Is this train going to Oxford, quick!” “Yes, looks like it,” I answered, pointing to the information board right above him. “Shit!” He sniped, seemingly in my direction, literally trying to pry the doors open as if attempting to heroically save the lives of the passengers inside. I couldn’t believe it, I may be young but I’ve had enough experience with navigating train stations to know that if the information board says: “14:34 to Oxford, stopping at Oxford,” then it is going to Oxford. And I also, amazingly, know that there’s a round flashing button for opening the doors. John McLane eventually gave up and- I kid you not- glared at me as if it were my fault he was late, blind and too stupid to gain access to the train. That was also not Karma… but it was funny, I guess.

Mercifully my Virgin Train finally pulled up 2 and a half hours after I’d been dumped on the platform and I was saved. I was looking forward to snuggling up in the window seat I’d booked, donning my headphones once again and jotting down a few notes of my adventure in Banbury. But as I made my way to Aisle 58, Seat A, my heart sank and I gave a metaphorical finger to karma, once again. There, in MY seat, was an Indian man happily catching some zzz’s against MY window. That’s not to say sleeping beauty wasn’t entitled to my seat. It appeared that, as I wasn’t on board and the commencing the journey, my seat had been rendered ‘unreserved.’ Charming. An hour later he got off and I was gifted with the very seat I’d paid for months ago. What’s more, he’d left behind a copy of ‘The Express’ and, despite not being a good enough read to keep him conscious, would do me quite nicely. It was also fitting that Karma came full circle in the end, albeit 2 hours late, leaving me exhausted, frustrated and heartbroken that I’d missed out on my fix of Character Assassination love. You may think the idea complete rubbish but it’s an interesting concept nonetheless, and made the final hour and a bit fly by.