Due to start work at 10.00am, I left the house at ten to nine to pursue my forty minute train journey to work. On the way there, I was confronted with what can only be described as 'the angry Londoner's commute'. Commuters jostled by me, not looking back as they barged me out of their paths, thrusting their tickets or slamming their Oyster cards on the scanner. I won't critisise; I too will be that angry commuter if, God willing, I get a job in London. Cramming together on the platform as the train snaked its way towards us, we were like a pack of hungry wolves awaiting our prey. I held back; it was my first day and I wasn't about to turn up half-dead and trampled by a percentage of the Capital's population.
Unsurprisingly, I didn't get a seat. I stood by the doors, leaning against the window, with my book in my hand. What sickened me, however, was the amount of suits, all pompous and self-important, sitting up straight and without shame as an elderly woman struggled to stand as the train shot towards Clapham Junction. Some ducked their heads behind The Metro, feigning ignorance at her existence. Her thin, wispy hands clung tightly to the rail in front of us, and I had an over-whelming desire to hold her up straight just so that she could relax her frail arms. I stopped her from falling as the train swayed and she lost her footing, and in doing so, I shot the filthiest glance I could muster at the nearest man sitting down, young and fit and more than able to stand.
I've seen a lot of things in my time, but I haven't felt loathing like that in a long time. The little old dear looked as though she may have collapsed at any moment and when she got off at Richmond, the same stop as me, I had to physically stand up straight around her, her protector if you will, to keep from others pushing into her. I left that train with no faith in humanity whatsoever, and I felt reluctant to turn in the opposite direction when she turned right and headed towards the suburban area of Richmond.
It has to be said that the daily commute brings out the devil inside all of us. I've seen people trample on children just to catch the train (slight exaggeration here, but still it's vaguely true). And the Tube. What the hell is that all about? People lunge themselves into those things as though another isn't due for at least four hours. I take one look at the sweaty, packed out train, people's cheeks pressed to the glass and their body parts all mangled and think, 'fuck this, I'll wait two minutes for the next one'. I don't iron my clothes in the morning just for some moron to come and sit on my lap or trample the bottoms of my trousers.
Today, on my way home from Richmond, I attempted to push my way towards the doors as the train approached Clapham Junction, my stop. The doors opened and nobody gave way. I made to squeeze through the shoulders and legs in front of me, but I became jammed, and the owners of these body parts continued to chew gum or listen to their i-pods, oblivious to my being stuck between them. I tried, in vain, to reach the doors before they closed once more and my protests went unnoticed until it was too late. The train began to move again, taking me further towards central London, effectively adding at least twenty minutes to my journey home. The fury omitting from me must have been evident; I failed to catch the eyes of the two imbociles who had held me back through their sheer incompetence, instead they chose to look away, unwilling to negotiate in confrontation. The lack of recognition for their actions infuriated me even more. Was an apology really that difficult to muster? I'm no amateur to it all; I've had my fair share of commuting via train to get to work and back, but I haven't lost the manners and the general good-will towards other human beings in doing so. Perhaps it takes a few years of doing so to harber this attribute, but it's something I hope I can hold off for as long as I can.
And that's another thing. What is so difficult about merely acknowledging somebody else's existence? When a commuter knocks a bag flying, why can't they spare two seconds to turn around and apologise?
If a lady in a wheelchair is being helped off of the train, as I witnessed on my way to work this morning, why would you gather around impatiently, checking your watches and making angry comments at those merely trying to get on with their lives with no intention of holding you up for the three moments of your life that they dare to exist.
Once, when I was in London, a train had been delayed due to somebody falling onto the tracks in front of in-coming train. The delay was forty-five minutes, and people all around me were angrily stomping around, complaining at the ticket-office and demanding refunds. I simply took out my phone, called my manager at work and explained the situation. I cannot condone or begin to comprehend the sheer obscenity of complaining at such a time. A man had fallen. FALLEN. Not jumped, but fallen. He, too, may have been trying to get to work. He, too, had a life and was on his way somewhere. But now he was dead. And somebody would have to inform his family, somewhere, that their son, husband or daddy was never coming home. Yet people on their way to work were acting as though the end of the world had presented itself, because of the loss of just forty-five minutes. Disgraceful.
Being impatient, irritable, or even down-right ratty after work is understandable, and I can vouch for this feeling when I'm heading back to Surbiton after a long day anywhere, let alone a nine-hour shift in front of a computer screen, but to be completely exempt of general courtesy and manners is inexcusable, and if you have to take it out on anybody, it should be somebody your own size. Not a girl who is half your age and size who is just trying to make it to her first day of placement. So if you happen to be the arsehole whose elbow caught me in the face this morning and you're reading this, I hope you managed to get to wherever you were in such a rush to get to, on time. I hope it wasn't work because you looked like shit and your shoes weren't even clean.
So yes. When you're travelling, do try to bear in mind that others exist around you.
And if there's a frail old lady who can't stand up, give her your bloody seat.
Rant Over.
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