Insecurity

Guess where I am? That's right, on the train.

Imagine that you're watching people board an already busy train, and that you're sat at a table seat with a seat spare next to you.

The train starts to populate, and you're sat on your tod expecting some smelly git to sit next to you.

But nobody does.

Is that because you're a smelly git? Is it because you look funny? Am I a serial killer now?

Tell you what, for nobody to sit next to you on a train that's packed, you've got to have something wrong with you.

Then someone sits next to you, and relief overwhelms you that you don't stink of fox urine. You don't look (too much) like a serial killer, and the fact of the matter is that 90% of the train haven't even noticed that you're acting slightly insecure.

Nobody else felt this on occasion? Nope? Just me.

On the train with a serial killer

On Thursday I was travelling to London on the train whilst sat opposite who I can only assume was a real-life Patrick Bateman.

Quite a leap to suggest something like that, eh?

Look at the evidence.

When he sat down, he removed his jacket, followed the creases and stowed it away in the overhead compartment being careful not to cause any unnecessary folding.

His beard was immaculately trimmed and perfectly even down to the last whisker. His hair appeared freshly trimmed that day. His tie formed a completely faultless Windsor knot.

He sat down next to my girlfriend on the opposite side of the table, and removed items of food from his briefcase. I'm calling them items of food because he had individually wrapped them tightly in cellophane. He also had the shiniest apple I've ever seen.

He took the apple and ate it in a way that only serial killers can. He held a napkin under his mouth for each bite ensuring that no juice from the apple touched his clothing or skin.

When finished with the apple which he devoured in the most intricate method possible, he unwrapped each individual item of food following it, and ate that in a similar fashion.

Eventually he broke into conversation with us, and my worst fears were confirmed. He was casual, articulate, confident, not patronising and above all: human.

Okay, so I've been reading a book on serial killers recently, but all the signs were there.

The intelligence of youth

Stood on the train platform, I noticed a small group of girls who were probably between the ages of sixteen-eighteen, as they disembarked the train at a station well known for having a college nearby.

I wasn't expecting to hear ground-breaking conversation on the implications of the strength of the pound, or what they thought of Gordon Brown being the next Prime Minister, but I wasn't expecting to hear this:

Girl1: Why doesn't anybody like Vanessa Feltz? I do.
Girl2: Miss Piggy doesn't like her, so why should I?


Good grief.

Shall I just rename this to the train blog?

It's becoming apparent that there are more bloggable incidents on a train than in any other social (or anti-social in a train's case) situation.

The temperature outside was around twenty degrees, and the train is slightly warmer. There's a large crowd of people on board, but there are no standing passengers. It is warm, people are tired and a bit irritable, and we're all looking forward to going home.

Then some selfish git decided that his feet needed airing, and removed his shoes.

The cabin filled with sweaty-sock-stench in a matter of minutes.

What sort of person thinks that it's okay to make people smell the contents of his shoes?

By the way, it could've been a girl, though I'm of the ilk that believe that girls fart roses and poo lillies.

The New iPod's Pushability

The new iPod Shuffle is a small MP3 player that's designed to be clipped onto your clothes to make you look ultra-hip and fashionable.

It also makes it ultra-stealable. With an expensive bit of electronics clipped to your lapel / shirt pocket, you're increasing your mug-rating to 9.5, and virtually doing most of the work for people apart from unclipping it, putting it in your mugger's hand and then barking like a dog.

More importantly, putting stuff like that on display stirs urges. Primal urges. Not sexy ones, just primal.

I was sat on the train (as far too many of these stories begin) when I noticed that the chap sat opposite me (I was sat at a table seat) was wearing one of these things on his jacket lapel.

My first instinct was to lean across, and push the big white button right in the middle of the player. It was calling me.

"Push me Karl, push me. This guy wants his music paused. He's willing you to do it".

I'm pretty sure that the voice was in my head but nonetheless, putting a button on someone's jacket like that is asking for trouble. Uber design flaw.

Apple, stop trying to be hip and with it, and start producing clips that'll go somewhere that's not so obviously stealable. Like the inside of your lower lip or something.

Train station familiarity

It counts for absolutely nothing.

Of the two people that I have spoken to on my local train platform, if I try to engage them in conversation the following day or week, I am met with exactly the same "Oh, you're on the platform too?" look that I get all the time. It's not that they're afraid to talk to me, but it's almost as though every encounter has to be started with the customary brand-new-contact face.

If no conversation is made at all, they'll quite happily stare at the rail track for fifteen minutes until the train arrives, and then board in absolute silence despite the fact that these people see eachother every single day and have done for at least the last four or five months that I've been occasionally catching the train.

My travel is infrequent, and even I still recognise people on the platform that get on there every single day.

What the hell is the point in life if you don't bother to make your time waiting for a train a little more friendly and communicative? Since when has banter on the train platform led to stalking, marriage, or god forbid; casual friendship.

If you don't think you need any more friends, chances are you're wrong and you live a more isolated life than you had once thought.

Ticket machines

Whether it's for trains, buses or festivals. Without a human to watch them, they just do not do their job.

I arrived at the tiny station where I board the train on some mornings, put my card in the machine, chose the most common ticket type for that line, and paid. Job done.

The next chap has an OAP card that entitles him to discount. Where's the slot for that? There isn't one.

Next chap wants a ticket that isn't listed. Where's the button for that? There isn't one.

It's the first day on the job for the ticket machine, and there's no human there to guide people who don't know what they're doing.

Robots will be taking over the planet at eating our souls next, you wait and see.

Give up your seat

I'm sat on the train, and an elderly chap gets on two stations up. I wait for a second to see if anybody offers him their seat, and they don't.

I offer him a seat, and he very politely declined!

I've never seen anything like this happen before, as usually it's a race against time to pile onto the train and take your seat from the nearest person, physically disabled or not. It is then their personal mission to hang on to their seat for their life's worth.

This chap wasn't interested and that's fair enough, although it did spark a question in my head.

What's the age and / or physical barrier limit before you offer a person your seat? More importantly, what if they're under that barrier?

Can somebody really be offended by the fact that you're offering them your seat?

"What? Do you think I'm too old to stand? I don't want your pity."

Or do they treat it as it's intended; a polite gesture that should leave you with a greater faith in human nature as a whole.

I can guarantee you that there are people in both camps.

Paranoia on the train

The other morning on the train into work I experienced what it was like to be a bit paranoid.

When drug-users speak about induced paranoia, I was always a bit skeptical because I've always been comfortable in my own skin.

However, when sat on the train in this particular circumstance, and without the use of any foreign substances, I started to notice people looking at me far more regularly than I'd ever noticed.

I checked to see if my flies were undone - Button-fly jeans. Safe.

I looked in a reflection to see if I had a six-inch bogey hanging from my nose. Nothing.

One bloke turned around and looked at me. He then noticeably shook his head and turned back around. What he was looking at exactly was beyond me; it could've been the conductor's lame efforts to get tickets sold through the train carriage before the next station, but it all compounded the fact that I felt watched.

Maybe I was paranoid, and maybe I just caught the MI5 train to Paddington and we're actually at the height of the second cold war.

/shrugs.

Please stand clear of the doors...

I'll admit that I made a mistake on the train this morning, although I did my best whilst still in the situation to avoid all eye-contact and therefore deny all responsibility for the incident.

When boarding the train this morning, I was at the front of a large queue of people on the platform behind me. There was a concentration camp-style crush to board which always makes me a bit sad with humanity that nobody wants anybody else to have their seat for what is essentially a twenty minute journey.

As I boarded, I may have brushed against a button. That button may have been mounted on a post, and it may have automatically closed the doors behind me.

I may have heard the hiss as I walked on, and I may have heard the sound of limbs flailing as they became entangled in the doors.

Did I look back? No. No I didn't.

It's every man for himself on trains these days...

Trains - The transport of scum

Discounting the usual Monday morning commute, why is it that a popular mode of transport of choice for the scum of the earth happens to be British Rail?

I understand that regular people use it too, but the number of sub-humans that use the train is amazing. What's wrong with the bus? It's cheaper for a start.

Any self-respecting scum of the earth hypodermic-using skag-head would surely go for the slightly more reasonably priced option? It'd mean a few extra pounds to spend on something likely to melt his or her brain.

I recognise that I'm ranting a bit irrationally here, although I'm sure you're probably used to it if you're a regular reader.

Allow me to define scum.

They can't be bothered to wear clean clothes. Their faces are covered with sores and dried skin / filth from years of abuse. They're shivering. They're usually on their cheap mobile to someone about demanding access to the kids they should really be forbidden from coming within twenty yards of. They're wearing a coat that's probably from the mid-nineties and hasn't worn well with age.

If they can't get access to clean clothes and a shower, how the hell can they afford the eight quid for a day-return from Weston-super-Mare to Bristol Temple Meads?!

The point I'm trying to make is that scum really should be saving themselves some cash and getting a mode of transport that I don't use.

Go use the bus or something.

The ultimatum

Before I begin, we should establish that you're not going to win this one.

From the scenario I decribe, there is no get-out clause, and there is no right choice.

I was stood on an absolutely packed train this morning, along with a lot of other people. There was a woman to my right, and a man to my left. Both were stood up, and that is all of the "stood-up carriage" that I could see.

A seat frees up behind me as we arrive at a new station, and nobody takes it immediately. I put on my diplomacy hat, and get to work.

Ladies first. "Would you like a seat?" I ask.
"No thankyou, I'm comfortable as I am." she says.

Chap to my left who's close to the seat next.
"Would you like to sit there? You're a bit closer than I am."
"No thanks mate, I'm getting off in one stop anyway. I should just take it yourself if I were you."

So I take the seat with a grateful smile on my face.

Immediately I catch the eye of a woman who is stood up and out of my range of view when I was stood.

She's eyeing me up with a sort of dirty look that you would give someone who just put their finger somewhere unpleasant and unnecessary and put it under their nose.

I avoid eye-contact, but notice her coat. She is stood fully-frontally to me, and as a result I have no aspect of her side-profile. She is wearing a coat with a tie that goes just under her chest and above most of her belly.

Immediately it strikes me that it's fairly likely she's pregnant, and that I should offer her my seat.

Is she pregnant though? I have no way of telling. If I stand and check, I make the riskiest move of my journey due to:

a) Losing my seat.
b) Looking like a bloke who just stood up and checked out a woman's gut.

If I ask "Excuse me, are you pregnant? Would you like to sit here?" I risk a punch in the face due to an ill-fitting coat.

She has several people around her who she could ask to move, but she chooses to look 3 rows in front, directly at me with a look of disgust on her face.

Like I said, there's no right and no wrong answer.

I stayed in my seat. Sod her.

Near-Death Collisions

I seem to experience them every train journey I take. Travelling between Weston-super-Mare and Bristol is a seemingly perilous experience to me. I'm listening to some music, staring out the window when suddenly a train travelling in the other direction passes faster than in the blink of an eye.

This happened to me just the other day, and in that blink, something occured to me; what if that train had de-railed?

You wouldn't feel a thing, the train would hit you before you knew what was going on, and if the train hit the carriage I was travelling in, there'd be no pain.

A very serious blog entry I know. Just something that 'struck' me.