What have I become?

Aghh, have to be in Swiss Cottage in an hour so I've left the house with no lunch... And by that I mean I haven't eaten yet, not I haven't fed the house. Horse-Hankering Hungry I pick up a pasty at London Bridge, Large Traditional, and hop on the tube. Trapped underground my stomach rumbles are drowning out the train noise, my mouth is watering, my saliva is drooling; I unwrap the paper and take a bite. Steam erupts from the broken pastry, boiling tongues of burning gas lick my face and sizzle my tongue; the pasty is on the verge of nuclear fission. But I am SO HUNGRY! I can't describe my frustration here, tears of anger are literally welling up, only to be quickly evapourated by the rising heat. I blow furiously on the pasty and take tiny nibbled bites, but these serve only to frustrate my appetite further. The train arrives at Green Park, and just as the doors do their beeping, an old woman makes a last minute dash and jumps in. The sliding doors catch her like a fly between chopsticks, and a look of brief surprise flashes over her face. She's wedged, getting thinner by the second, the contents of her bags being loudly crushed in the pneuamatics, and what do I do? I stand there, face to face with her, taking small munches on my pasty, with nothing but a look of sublime indifference on my face. She struggles and pants, thrusts and squeezes, and I continue to have nothing but lift music filling my head. Finally she pops through, like a cork from a bottle, and red-faced and wheezing glares at me. I continue to munch. Geez, some people!