When suffering from a bout of writers block between Christmas and new year the boy suggested that I write a post on trains. It was after he had just missed a train that had left the station two minutes before it was due to, and he was about as irate as he gets. At the time I laughed it off, unable to envisage getting to the platform late enough that I would miss the train if it was a mere two minutes early. Now, however, I feel his pain.
I have been commuting for little over a week, and have already amassed over 12 hours travelling by public transport. Be it trains, undergrounds or buses, I have become one of those people. A clock watcher.
I now live my life by the minute, and the second. I find myself tutting at people aimlessly wandering around Waterloo station in rush hours texting on their phones as I am dashing to the right platform, and have been known to audibly tut when someone just stops in front of me. You see, these people are determining the health of my social life. By stopping in the “fast lane” on the escalator they are endangering my dinner plans, by not having the right ticket at the barrier they are potentially ruining my evening. Those seconds mean everything when your next train isn’t for a half hour, and that five seconds extra that they dawdle in front of you in the ticket hall could be the seconds between me catching the bus or being smirked at by the bus driver as I run, arms flailing to catch his horrible gun bus, and he pulls off anyway.
Other than this I don’t mind the trains. The buses however are another matter and I would sell a vital organ to not have to get on one each night. The seats are so grubby that you can visualise all the dead skin and horrible things from all the people have sat there before, and after last nights journey when I watched the bus driver and his friend, who seemed to be enjoying going round and round circles of the town, leering at all the women get off the bus, I dread the walk of shame to exit.
When I get home I immediately get undressed and hop in the shower in the hope of scrubbing my skin back to its porcelain cleanliness. It doesn’t work. In still a bit grey and have an air of grub around me.
So next time you grab your phone out of your pocket and try to text on the move when in a busy station, think of me tripping over behind you!
Tinkerbelle 
Written like a true city gal.Well done
Amen! When Babs and I raced to get the train last Saturday, we kept getting caught behind the lollygaggers and it was MADDENING (the trains we take from NYC to NJ usually only run every HOUR)!
And the leering bus drivers…sigh. It’s one thing to check someone out, but the leering you speak of? It’s just so demeaning!
How far do you have to travel into the city? My advice would be get a motorcycle, eliminates public transport delays and most traffic problems though jostling with black cabs, dispatch riders, routemasters and bendy busses can be scary.
Its far. It takes me 45 mins on the train to Waterloo, and then I can walk from there. But on the way back it would take me about an hour to walk to my house from the station I reckon.
I don’t mind public transport that much, it’s other people I don’t care for.
Public transport, you are much stronger than I… although we don’t have a train or anything of the like here in Houston. I can only relate to the few times taking the bus here and the train in NYC. There really are some characters… those people could probably get their own posts here soon…
Agreed–buses are thier own circle of hell.
I took a lot of buses back in the day and I guess I got used to it, but I never had to wait at a station with a ton of people. I usually stood at the side of some random road somewhere.
Sounds stressful!
Maybe you should save up for a Vespa!
lmao… over here, the issue tends to be the slow car at the front of the driving queue. Under my rules, 4 cars or more behind the slow one constitutes an official parade.
Sooo funny, and true! I used to be a clock watcher, but thankfully can drive everywhere now.
I used to catch a bus home from this bus stop that’s just a short distance from the traffic lights at a junction. What would happen most days a week, is that I’ll get to the junction, get caught waiting for the green man to appear with just enough time to watch the bus drive off from the bus stop.
If that’s not bad enough, the bus will often then get stopped by a red light at this junction, so I’ll get to walk right up to the bus… but the drivers would never let me on anyway.
Yeah I have a lot of less than pleasant memories of such things – these days I go everywhere by taxi as it is less stressful! 🙂
Love and hugs!
Prenin.
hahaha! this reminds me of the days when I used to commute!!! Thankfully i work with my mammy so this is a distant memory for myself!!
If I see you run past me at Waterloo, I’ll give you a wave 🙂
Ah I don’t miss commuting via public transportation.
When people are walking along busy hallways/platforms/sidewalks, I believe you can walk slowly, OR you can weave a little when you walk. You may NOT do BOTH.
I am so country that just the idea of riding on a train sounds like a pretty giant adventure. You are the cool, city girl I’d totally like to be. You know, if I didn’t live behind a cow field 🙂
I can totally empathize with the showering as soon as you get home part! Haha – great post
From my post next Wednesday, handling an award.
Tinkerbelle. I really would like to add new, boutique-like blogs in here that might give you a new favorite, but I’m starting out with an established one. I have a blog crush on Belle eversince I started blogging, even resulting in a love letter (joke or not, place your bets!). I’ll not tell you to check her out, but that’s why her name looks like a link.
aw thanks!! i wont spoil the illusion and reveal whether the love letter joke is true or not 🙂
I used to have to ride the subway in Boston. You saw everything there. People urinating in brown paper bags, pickpockets helping themselves to old ladies wallets. I always carried a wipe and a semi-automatic shotgun for protection. Smile. Just kidding.
Hahaha! One time we were on the subway in Boston, and my son clung to one of the poles and had his mouth pressed against it. I nearly flipped out. I’ve been known to wear light gloves even in the warmer months while on the subway.
Tink, more power to you! I had to find a new job and give up my commute in the car to the Boston area. I started screaming at people because they don’t seem to understand the concept that if one pushes the accelerator, the car goes forward.