Cos the World Owes Me!

Do you use a bus on your commute? There's a type of person I see more on the bus than the train; the young female with toddler in push chair, wearing a default surly face which says ‘Out o' my way, can’t you see I’m comin' froo?’

You may have seen them yourself: Grey stained ill-fitting tracksuit bottoms and off-grime trainers, crop top with excess body over the waistband complete with belly-button stud drowning in flab; three-toned 'blond' 'hair'; an excess of silver chains, rings, dangly loop earrings and a nose stud; money wasted in the nails shop sporting ludicrous, impractical talon extensions, clutching a packet o’ fags and an expensive mobile phone in one hand while steering the off-spring buggy with the other, caring little for fellow passengers. The balling toddler looks like it's dressed in Surly’s own baby clothes, under a blanket that itself screams "Launder me a month ago!"

I watch (from the middle of the bus) an older gentleman with walking stick get up from his seat near the front – seats meant for the elderly and disabled as well as push-chair users – and offer it to Surly. To be fair Surly says “Fanks” but in a monotone of expectation rather than acknowledgement of a kindly deed, and with a look now directed at the older woman sitting next to her saying ‘Well move then, my buggy’s gotta go there!’

I am uplifted as the older lady looks straight back at her, smiles, then returns to her book with more class than Surly will muster in her lifetime. The scene is a striking contrast - the older woman, poised, smartly dressed, life's experience carried with dignity on her face, the look of a considerate person: the young girl, slouching, characterless, slovenly, a taker!

Balling offspring is red-faced; cheeks tear-soaked, snot-nosed. Surly leans over impatiently, made more inconvenient for her (and humorous for me) by the older woman not moving. She may look considerate but it doesn't mean she lacks self-confidence.
"Stop it, Britney! What you cryin' about? 'Ere!" Surly stuffs a dummy in her child's mouth. This works for a second before the dummy falls out. It is, though, brilliantly caught in the fall by the older woman, like an expert slip-fielder. Britney starts balling again but not before older lady receives a high-pitched 'Woooo' from a man sitting opposite and a small clap from two smiling teenage girls in standing room only. She passes it to Surly, dummy teat up under Surly's mouth; for me a superbly comic moment!

Surly is momentarily stunned. The older lady smiles her smile again and once more returns to her book. After what seems like an age, Surly sucks on the dummy (as if her cigarette-saliva and breath will sterilise it) and this time, coaxes it into Britney's mouth in a more caring way.

As I get off the bus I observe the scene one last time. Surly is on her mobile now talking to her friend Tiff, just subtly enough for the whole bus to hear. Older lady, straight-backed, unmoved, continues to read. The image is stark. Yes it's one of age, appearance (literally and perceptually), life experience, style, class. But it's also, sadly, one of distinctly opposite (and in the latter case growing) outlooks on life: Consideration of others in a shared world versus one solely interested in what the world owes me.

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!