Awkward Moments on the Train

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The suburb I live in is often referred to as "The Sticks". It's pretty far from the city and pretty flora&fauna-filled too. I've seen an echidna waddle down my driveway, had a kangaroo live in the backyard, found 2 frogs and a couple of ducks swimming in our backyard pool and glimpsed the odd possum scurrying across the electrical wires.

Living so far out has its benefits, don't get me wrong; it's quiet, leafy and safe. But it also means that unless you have money to burn and a car to depreciate, everyday is prefaced with a pretty long train ride into the city to work. I find myself enjoying the ride in, if only because it gives me a bit of time to psyche myself up for the day ahead. You feel like you're buying time before you have to switch your brain on and string words and coherent thoughts together.

But the train ride to work can be fraught with split second (bad) decision making and uncertainty stemming largely from the unwritten code of train catching etiquette that remains mostly undefined. For example:

1. When the train is approaching your stop and you're sitting in the inner most seat of a three seater, you get a bit nervous, adjust their hair, eyes dart around, you check out the other two people blocking your path. You contemplate when is too early to get up. Should you just climb over everyone's laps? Should you say sorry or excuse me?


2. You have just gotten onto the train, you spot the middle seat of a three seater which is vacant. The person sitting in the inner most seat to the window has their bag on the vacant seat. You want to sit in that seat. You murmur apologetically to the person in the aisle seat that you want to sit where the bag is. The person in the window seat pretends not to see you and continues to leave their bag there. The person in the aisle seat looks apologetically at you, and gets up. You lean into the three seater and murmur to the person in the window seat that you want to sit where the bag is. The person just stares dumbly back. The person in the aisle seat takes pity on you and offers their seat. They stand while you sit. You want to disappear into your seat. The person in the window seat looks at you blankly "Who me?" they goad, and it takes all your willpower not to fling their stupid bag out the train window.


3. An old person gets on the train and teeters down the stairs. He/She stops right next to you. There are no vacant seats. You offer your seat and half stand. Old person refuses. You insist, still half standing. They refuse. You don't know what to do. So you sit. And everyone around you stares daggers because clearly the chivalrous thing to do, would have been to stand. You shrink into your seat and will the train ride to be over.


4. An old person gets on the train and teeters down the stairs. He/She stops right next to you. There are no vacant seats. You offer your seat and stand up with no hesitation- no one can criticise you now, you've taken affirmative action! Old person refuses graciously. You insist. They refuse. You remain standing. They remain standing. An empty seat stares up at everyone standing in the aisle. Everyone pretends not to notice the empty seat. Next station and a scruffy looking emo bounds down the stairs and takes the seat- unapologetic.


5. You get on the train, you go down the stairs, you scope out the most desirable empty seat. Will the person next to you be coughing and sniffling? Are they taking up more than 50% of the seat? Do they look relatively clean? You decide on the seat halfway down the carriage. You sit. The person you choose to sit next to yawns continuously. They are tired. Their breath reeks. Not just stinks, but reeks. Plaque has not seen the light of the day for months. You can tell. There is no escape and you consider that a hazmat suit would be helpful right now. You stick it out for the entire trip if you are in a tolerant mood. You stick it out for one stop and feign getting off the train (before sprinting to the next carriage) if your threshold is low and you just can't take it anymore.


6. You get on the train and again scope out the seating situation. The only vacant seat is the one at the very end, in the 6 seater. It is the seat that faces the rest of the carriage. You are facing 50 other passengers. You don't know where to look. You feel like their eyes are drilling into your eyeballs. You consider sleeping. You realise that you might look funny sleeping and don't really want 50 people contemplating whether your "sleep face" is pretty funny or not. You bury yourself in your phone and refuse to make eye contact for the rest of the trip.


7. You are running late, you get to the top of the stairs at your train station and you notice that the train is pulling up. You absolutely must make this train. You trip down the stairs, storm up the platform and make an ungraceful leap onto the train. Momentum propels you into everyone in the doorway, you apologise profusely, but you can't stop, you're going too fast and you run, legs cycling too quickly, down the stairs into the lower compartment. Your shoes clatter loudly, your handbag bangs against every seat, and totter half way up the aisle until you finally flop down into a seat. Everyone looks to see what all the ruckus was about. You pant heavily and put on a chirpy face as if to say "Phew! I just made it!!!" But secretly, you're mortified because everything was so clumsy and loud and the train was so quiet. You fix your hair and straighten up your coat, pretending to not care that that was pretty damn embarrassing and you could not have been more elephant-like if you tried.

The joys of public transport.