After Hours Party Train

My enchantment with the public train of Sydney ended today. I made the mistake of leaving work at a decent hour. What greeted me as I descended the stairway to Platform 2 to catch my express train was a sea of people. I touched down to the train stand in time to watch the door close to a carriage. Inside I saw a man with the look of desperation as he braces himself against the frame of the train door, much like someone protecting themselves in the doorway during an earthquake. His arms were outstretched as if he was swinging through the jungle like Tarzan, but he was merely trying to alter his proportions to that of a sheet of paper. Good luck with that.

I waited for my train. As it arrived I wondered if I'll make it onto this line. I tried my luck and decided to give it a go. I had left work "early" because I was pretty drained, and there was no point in beating the dead hamster that refuses to run the wheel inside my head. My eyes scanned the cart for a spot I could wedge myself in without looking like an earthquake victim. I was in luck, and I slipped in with 2 inches to spare for the door to close. This was one of those times when being a midget or a contortionist would come in extremely handy. Just as I thought the train couldn't possibly hold another person, late comers with the stubbornness of salmons jumping upstream crammed themselves in next to me. Good thing they were compact.

Finally, the train safety operators blow their whistles to signal the engineer to shut the doors. The standard warning comes on the intercom. A woman with a British accent, the familiar voice I've heard so many times announcing "Please stand back, the doors are now closing," reads our death sentence. I inhale and hold my bag close to keep it away from the door that threatens to decapitate. The train lurches forward and my body finds its balance within the continuum of acceleration. This is where my thoughts start to wander.

Train rides during rush hour is like a public transport disco. You are crammed up against strangers in a confined space, forced to rub elbows with one another, literally. The men are dressed in suits, the women in skirts. The air is barely circulating, it's warm, stuffy...add one more discomfort and you just might vomit. What's missing from this party train is the loud music pumping through the crowd; pulsating against your eardrums and pulverizing your inner organs like the Vengabus. You're not inspired to move because of the lack of alcohol in your system. Instead, the train moves you with abrupt bumps and jerks due to its non-existing suspension; you involuntarily give up your nanometer wall of personal space with each jolt. As I survey the cart I notice the harsh bright fluorescent lighting. Clubs usually are pitch black with scant flashes of colored light, making the strangers next to you seem mysterious in a good way. I realize people in my cart are not nearly as good looking as people I usually see in a club, perhaps it's the lighting, or the lack of beer goggles...probably both.

My stop finally arrives after what seemed like an eternity in a human heat generated sauna. I hear this man behind me utter, "excuse me," signaling his intention to get off the train. My internal dialog answers, "chill out. I'm getting out, too!" Then I realize the people in front of me aren't budging so I had to sheepishly use the same line to escape the traveling tin prison. Once outside, I breathe in my first breath of cool, fresh air and feel myself inflate back to my normal dimensions. I lean my head to the left and right a few times and shake the kinks from my previous confinement out of my body. Then I walk out of the station with a spring in my step, relieved to have survived my first rush hour.

I realized I didn't like being in contact with humanity after all. Actually, let me clarify that statement: I didn't enjoy being in constant contact with unfamiliar humanity. I decided I will work late to avoid the rush hour crowd or find a place of residence that has a friendlier commute during peak hours. Despite all the inconveniences from today's ride, the train still offered me pensivity, not to mention inspiration for this entry. So maybe we'll work it out. We've only been seeing each other for two weeks.