Am I Nice?

I, like many people who live in London, Hate the tube.

I mean, I like how it gets me from one place to another in a short space of time, I just wish it could do it without making me ride in sweaty, depressing swine flu incubators. 

The one pleasure I do get from the underground, however, is the rare occasion I see old ladies with heavy bags struggling to get up the stairs.

Not because I'm sick or twisted, you understand.  Quite the opposite.  Its because I want to help them with their load.  I want to brighten their day. I want to be a hero.

I saw such a damsel in distress recently, slumped on her suitcase at the bottom of the escalator, her pleading eyes scanning the platform for a gallant knight in shining armour.

That's me!  I thought. Me.  All I'm missing is the shining armour. And a knighthood, which, If I do this heroic deed,  is sure to be coming my way pretty soon.

I imagined beaming my most reassuring smile at her and saying "May I?".  I imagined her look of eternal gratitude.  

I imagined my girlfriend (I had to, I haven't got one) watching me, face flush with pride, turning to her friends who would all be giggling and looking at her as if to say "He's the One. Marry him."

I'd reach the top, and gently place the bag down.  The old woman would thank me. I'd wink and say "No worries, Love", which would somehow sound neither patronising nor camp. 

I'd walk off hand in hand with my girl (the one with the giggling mates, not the 80 year old) safe in the knowledge that I had done a good deed and everyone liked me for it

By the time I got back to reality, the old woman and her bags were gone.  I looked all over the platform, fearing she might have tried to lift them herself and become squashed under their weight.

Then I caught sight of her, half way up the escalator.  Next to her, a kind looking man of about my age was carrying her bags without pomp or fuss. My chance was gone.

As I stood there, watching him ascend to glory, I began to wonder if I could ever do an altruistic deed, or would my motivation always be a desperate desire for people to like me?

Is anyone who does nice things actually nice? Are the only genuine people those who are overtly selfish?

Sod it, I thought as I escalated to the exit.  I like people thinking I'm nice.  They get nice things done for them.  Everyone's a winner.

Next time, I'll even carry the old lady as well as her bags.