I’ve been back in the world of employment for just over a week and am finding my feet, getting to know my colleagues and starting to get my head round what I’ve been brought in to do. It’s all good. Well almost. You see, with the return of work comes the return of my nemesis. Trains or, more specifically, the people on and around them.
So far, I’ve had an irrational desire to strangle five fellow commuters, had one train cancelled, been blasted with deodorant, elbowed to within an inch of my own sanity and had one return journey stop tantalisingly close to home and drive back to the last station because, apparently, somebody threw their shopping on the track. What is wrong with people?!
The doors seem to be the things that make otherwise intelligent-looking people act like complete morons. There are those who stand there repeatedly jabbing the button to open them when it isn’t yet illuminated and those who look tormented by the fact that said button lights up and bleeps once the train has stopped. What does it mean?! Not to forget the souls who think that boarding is a cross between The Hunger Games and musical chairs…
Then there are the idiots with absolutely no spatial awareness. They get everywhere. Sitting down with the expectation of a pleasant journey? You fool! There’s a fat businessman who seems to think he’s a lapdancer and you’re a punter. Trying to get off the train? You can’t, because there are three of the bell ends forming a wall along the platform. Trying to get through the ticket barriers? No chance. There’s a guy who’s bustled his way in front of you only to realise that his ticket is at the bottom of his bag. Argh!
What about the ones who spend about ten minutes standing up, hanging coats, stowing luggage, emptying pockets and adjusting themselves? Sit down! And the spray-toting smelly people? It’s not going to help you! You’re going to end up smelling of deodorant AND body odour. The people loudly yabbering away on the phone? We don’t need to know about your sex life!
I would say I’ve missed this, but that would be about as sincere as the recorded announcements stating how riddled with guilt the rail operator is that you’re going to have a cold dinner again.
My journey in is only half an hour. I’m going halfway up the country next week…