This reminds me of another story which is disgusting and hilarious. I was at a music festival a few years ago, it was very muddy as per the lovely British weather. In between acts, we were standing, chilling, drinking cider as you do. All of a sudden a group of people surrounded this one girl. I feared for her life for a split second and wondered if I should help the poor lass and fend off the attackers. In my drunken cider state, I felt like I could go Jackie Chan on their asses. Realisation dawned as she too squatted and took a piss in the mud. The worst thing was hearing it splatter and dribble. The best bit was when she lost her balance and fell backwards into her own concoction of mud and piss. It was a beautiful moment. Anyway, the pissing child was the only real thing of note this morning. It was a semi relaxing journey to work and I managed to get a copy of the Metro and turned the pages really loudly.
So now I'm back on the platform for the journey home, its quite sunny. I just wish this weather would last. I can never seem to decide what to wear. It was beautiful this morning, then rained in the afternoon, then got really warm again. It wasn't a day for thick tights, but not to worry. I managed to rip them right at the crotch this afternoon, fresh air for the beaver. Thank god I didn't wear the crotchless pants this morning as well. Going up stairs may be an issue.
I spot tons of Potter fans again, there's a gang of about 15 girls and I'm tempted to take a picture for you all. Perhaps I better not, some of them look very young and I don't want to end up on a list somewhere. Mind you, for being so young, the outfits are shocking! If I had kids I'd never let them go out dressed like extras from The Rocky Horror Show. I feel like shouting across the platform "a skirt would go lovely with that belt!" I swear I caught a glimpse of flap. I feel old and disgusted all at once.
Train is early today which is a turn up for the books. I'm on, my carriage is really quiet and I get a whole section to myself! I even sneakily put my feet up on the seats. I know, its naughty, but I have a recovering ankle that needs to be elevated, so don't judge me. Sitting, watching the landscape whizz by. We stop at a station and a business man gets on my carriage. Its still empty, there are even window seats with tables available. The Suit walks by me and up to the entrance to the first class carriage. Very fucking posh. He presses the button to open the door and nothing happens. I grin outwardly.
He pushes again, still nothing. I now have a beaming smile. A quizzical look creases across his face and he continues to push the button and stare at the uncooperative door. That door is staying firmly shut. Perhaps the door is offended by your cheap polyester Primark suit, Sir. Each attempt results in more frantic finger pushing. Which is then followed by a slump of the hips and a shrugging of the shoulders which is then followed by quiet snickering my me. I don't get the point of paying for first class on the daily commute? I mean, there's less likely to be chavs, FPG's and the like. But more chance of Blackberry tappers, laptop hammerers, and loud conversationalists "Yes, hmm get Shelia to type up the minutes from the Smith merger at once" How about I merge your face with the wall.
I once gazed in wonder when the doors were open for an exceptionally long time and saw what life could be like up in first class. I'm not sure if its worth it. I saw a guy having a conversation with a Bluetooth headset. Seriously? your on a train, which requires no hands. Unless there's a particularly sharp deviation on the track. But I hear in first class they have people on jobseekers and those earning under £60k a year running along side the tracks to stop the first class carriage rocking.
Even though we've left the station he got on at, he's still standing at the first class door not quite sure what to do. Should he sit down among us minions, should he knock on the door and ask one of his fellow ponces to let him in, or is that a dent in pride? Finally after 15 minutes of trying the button, he slumps to the seat opposite me. He looks terrified. I almost feel sorry for himself. He doesn't know quite what to do with himself. The table seems smaller and he struggles to fit his broadsheet across it. How will he manage to do the giant crossword at the back? Two down is "TWAT"
At the next stop a fellow Ponce exits the first class carriage through to the minion section, The Suit spots his opportunity and jumps up from his seat. Him and his fellow Ponce exchange a glance. Some Masonic-esque secret code as if to say, I was in trouble help me out mate? He dives through to the the First Class section and I see him sit down and breath a sign of relief in familiar surroundings and mop his brow with his monogrammed hankerchief Chuckle chuckle. I find it all highly amusing.
I continue with my gazing out the window watching my word whizz by as yet another station comes into view. I watch the suit get up and exit the carriage and the train and make his way through the station. Really mate? Was it worth that 5 minutes in First? Oh damn, you got off just after the bare chested woman started serving canapes. Shame.
Tomorrow I'm gonna superglue the door shut and piss myself like that child this morning.
A. Passenger
First class??? On London Midland? Is there such a thing lol!!
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