Sad? Anal?

‘Hang on, is someone in my place? No I think I’m okay. Or am I? Shit! Better get there quick!’

My step quickens. I allow plenty of time to get to my platform waiting points, morning and night. I know exactly where the doors open to my preferred carriages and thereby the prime spots to board for my favoured seats. Gotta secure my space!

“Sad git!” I hear you think. “What are you talking about; a forty minute commute? An hour? Whatever! Just get on and deal with it!”

 Well, okay. In that case I should advise, successfully boarding is Stage 2.

“You’re…(optional swear word)…joking right?"

No! Stage 1 is to scan the carriages, both as the trains pull in and in the seconds preceding the doors opening, checking if my preferred and/or back-up seats are free. Further, that this stage be executed with a convincing look of unwavering, indifferent coolness. If they are free, boarding decision clear! If not, a super-fast survey and decision making process must ensue so that, when Stage 2 begins, I do not hesitate and consequently lose out in the race-for-the-remaining-best-seats stakes.

I know you’re rolling your eyes now. You want to say something not altogether flattering about me.

But wait! My carriages offer easy boarding, and alighting at journeys end. In the morning, most people at my station want to get on at, or near, the front. The platform is crowded and scrums form around the doors. The carriages also look busier. At journeys end, these same carriages are full of later standing passengers with a propensity to hover impatiently at the doors and rush out to the barriers; only then to stand there queuing after a quickstep-n-dodgem pelt to get one person ahead. I board the second to last carriage. No scrum here; it’s like passengers from earlier stations have ignored the carriage’s existence. At journeys end, I wait until most people get off, then leisurely put on my jacket/coat, don my back-pack and stroll down to the barriers where the queues have gone – straight through.

In the evening I board at a starter station. I often see my regular-ish train come in and empty out. Here, I get on three carriages from the front and because I am one of the first to board, always get a favoured seat. This carriage has two advantages: It generally clears out at the station prior to my mine, leaving me in a nice quiet carriage for the last leg of my commute; and when it stops at my station, the doors open right by the steps leading to the exit. Consequently, without rush, I ready myself in comfort by the door and then step out with minimal hassle to leave the station.

“Really?” you scoff, “You’re that anal about it? Just go with the flow! If you have to wait and queue, live with it! If you get overtaken in the rush, well that’s commuting for you! If you don’t like it, don’t commute!”

I hear your thoughts! Honestly! But I say, preparation beats consternation!

As I approach my platform space, relief prevails.
‘That’s a bit of luck, they’re not quite in the right place.’ Inside I savour a warming moment of smugness! Standing in my spot, the universe is once more in balance!

Sad? Maybe! Anal? Possibly – a bit! Comfortable and (relatively) relaxed? Definitely!