I was trying to exit a train once, in Glasgow. I was used to trains with buttons to press to open the doors, but this door had none. I started to get that panicky feeling of being trapped but I realised that I had to open the window, put my arm out, and open the door by the outside handle.
I reached my arm out and flailed around wildly for the handle, to no avail. I was really panicking now and I stuck my head out of the little window, stepping on the bottom of the door to get a bit of lift. I saw the handle, grasped it and tugged, and to my great relief, the door opened.
Unfortunately, my relief was short lived as I was now standing on a rapidly opening door, with my head and arm sticking out of the window, with nothing to stop me except the side of the train.
The door, my giant backpack and I described, as one, a perfect arc through the air and thudded, with a shriek, into the carriage wall. I just about managed to extract my head in time and ended up nose-to-metal with the train.
Then it was a simple matter of hopping down from the door and styling it out all the way down the platform. Except the episode gave me a fit of the giggles and even those who had not seen my beautiful descent were treated to a red faced me, cry-giggling, and snotting her way to the taxi rank.