Which one would you choose?
Sitting in your climate controlled car but crawling bumper to bumper in gridlocked traffic. ETA unknown.
Packed like sardines in an overcrowded train carriage with a broken thermostat. ETA dependent on the weather.
Neither? You work from home? You don’t need work? Your money grows on trees? I so so envy you.
If you’re like me and have to join the masses for the commute, and have chosen the train then you have my commiseration.
Why? Train rides are the worst; stifling heat from the masses in contained areas; recycled air filled with germs from hacking coughs and projectile sneezing; someone constantly sniffling or snorting their gunk; unpleasant smells. Let’s not forget the awkwardness of having someone in your personal space.
On my latest commute, the train system was in shambles due to track damage. This meant hordes of people converged on the platforms to get a coveted position in the carriages. I end up pushed along until I’m right in front of the disabled seats. I am standing so close to this seated woman that it borders on indecent. Being vertically challenged, my hand immediately skims the nearby handrails to hold myself upright. It’s prime real estate. I ready myself in a warrior stance to avoid toppling with the jerky movements of the train.
Not wanting to stare at the woman in my direct line of sight, I shift my gaze to people in the carriage. I’m immediately assaulted with the sight of a man oddly rubbing his phone on the thigh, incessantly, for what feels like an unseemly amount of time. He must really want a clean phone screen.
Feeling a bit perturbed, I look away and catch the sight of a woman putting on a full face of makeup. I’m amazed at her ability to put on eyeliner without stabbing herself in the eye. On a good day, I look like I’m playing a solo game of Twister against the mirror so I can’t imagine adding movement to that conundrum.
More people shuffle into the carriage. I take a deep fortifying breath. Regret courses through me when I take a whiff of body odour from the armpits of the man standing beside me. I’m just at the right height for maximum damage. I shuffle and do a one-eighty degree turn only to have a mouth breather in my face.
As I’m having my moment of existential crisis, I’m become aware of the feeling of material rubbing against my knuckles and glance down.
“What the fudging hell?”
A giant man is standing near me, his crotch leaning against the handrail, which just so happened to have my hand wrapped around it. The swaying movement of the train meant that I was giving this giant a railjob. I look up and continued looking up till I reach the man’s face. I can feel myself blushing. He hasn’t noticed. I try to discreetly move my hand but it’s jammed. It ain’t going anywhere.
“Ahem!” Nothing. Nada.
“Ahem! Ahem! Argh!” I say with more emphasis.
The man looks curiously down at me. I direct my gaze to the hostage situation and glance back to him. He jerks away from the rails and gives me an apologetic smile.
I give an involuntary shudder. I’m going to have to bleach my eyes and scrub my knuckles after this particular train ride.
The train doors open. My stop. I push and shove my way past the crowd to get through in time. The cool air hits my face, offering immediate respite. I take a breather.
You know that saying…do a good deed every day?
I think I reached my quota.
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