Attention reader. Garbage follows. Exit when unbearable.
I boarded the train to New York at 5:35 PM. It was a Wednesday and Wednesdays are those long, drawn out days when 8 hours feel like 16. As I made my way through the cars looking for a good place to sit, I noticed the train ticket master pass me by, swearing at some poor bloke who had apparently boarded the wrong train. For no reason, I felt glad I was not in his place ( I guess its natural to the chicken-hearted).
I found a car with two and three seats on either side of the aisle. I took one on the side with two and waited impatiently for the ticket master to check my tickets so I could get some sleep, quite exhausted as I was. It was a good hour and fifteen minutes to New York and I was determined to put every minute to good use. I looked back and forth the aisle a dozen or so times before resigning to the fact that this man was not coming by any time soon. I sat there looking at the moving objects on the other side of the window. Its amazing how something as dull as a tree can hold your attention as it passes you by. At long last, he came and checked my ticket. I surrendered the credit-card-sized-paper and settled in for some sleep. Outside, the moving objects started to blur and I drifted into darkness.
I heard a knock nearby and awoke with a start. I looked around to find the ticket master looking on with curiosity that bordered on irritation. "New York Penn Station", he said rather tersely. I got up in a hurry and followed him to the exit. He unlocked the door for me. I stepped out of the car groggily, apologizing to him for the trouble. He didn't seem to care; just happy that I was finally out of the train. It makes me wonder about how long he must have been trying.
I hurried out to toward the subway trains in hope of getting to Wall Street as quickly as possible. I couldn't however, figure out which train I was supposed to be on. To save time, I made my way back to the station exit and out onto the road. I found a cab which took me to Wall Street in about fifteen minutes. It was another ten minutes to walk before I met up with my friends. I showed them around downtown Brooklyn a little bit. Then it was time to go back to Manhatten for them to see Times Square and the Empire State Building from the outside. After dinner, it was time to say good bye and I came back to New York Penn Station for my train back home. As I checked the train timings, I noticed that the next train was at 9:45. I had five minutes to buy a ticket and hurry down to the train. I got into line pushing past a couple, and apologizing. They didn't seem to care either; just too preoccupied with themselves. I suppose I could give up apologizing and live to talk about it. I bought the ticket and ran down the steps to my Dover train.
This Dover train is a finely furnished double decker with good interiors and upholstery. Shortly I found a seat beside a China man, and sat down. I kept looking around for people getting out of the train so that I could have a place with both the seats for myself. The guy on the other side of the aisle got up. I bolted across the aisle and took my place by the window, stretching my legs so that they went across the seat beside me. My feet fell just short of jutting out of the aisle. I prepared for another good spell of sleep.
I woke up to an announcement on the intercomm announcing that it was the last stop and requesting everybody to get out. The train had come to a halt. I climbed the small flight of stairs from the lower deck and went for the exit. Locked. So was the door on the other side. Suddenly the train started moving to my right. It was customary for the ticket masters to lock doors on the compartments at the rear and front so that all passengers could exit from a single car. With this 'insight' into the working of the Dover Railway Dept., I started toward what I thought was the back of the train, which was to the left, opposite to the direction the train was moving in. I had no idea whether it was left or right when we started. As I crossed the second car, I found two Spaniards and a couple, waiting at one of the doors. I decided this was it and I waited too.
The train came to a halt. Outside, on either side were continuous structures that didn't seem like platforms. Still quite in sleep, it didn't make any sense. I wrestled with the identity of this new entity until the truth suddenly came to me. We were in the yard and these structures were trains!
Apparently the other four people had known all along that were had been to the station and back. It didn't seem to bother them that we were supposed to have gotten off when it had stopped. Maybe they were waiting for Spiderman to come and rescue them from the 'villainous Ticket Master' who had pulled out of the station without letting them off. I decided they had had brain surgery and the surgeon had forgotten to put the brain back in. All doors around us were locked and the only way out was to press the Emergency button which would get the ticket master to come and open the doors. I suggested that we press the button so that he knew we were still in the train. They hesitated. I was sure the Emergency button was made for passengers in distress. Either my co-passengers didn't think so, or they didn't think they were in distress, or they didn't think at all.
At length, I pressed and spoke into the intercomm. The annoyance in the voice on the other end was quite apparent. He hung up and we took it that he was headed our way. I sat on the stairs and waited. After another ten minutes, we finally spotted the ticket master making his way through the car toward us. At the foot of the stairs on the lower deck, he looked up.
I stared at his face in disbelief. He stared back at mine. It was the same ticket master who had woken me up at New York Penn Station just a few hours back. He snapped out of it before I did and started up with stairs shaking his head. I gave way to him as he reached our level. He turned to me with a look of utter disdain and anger. Clearly I had pushed him over the edge. His eyes said it all. "What is it with you, man?! Do you ever get off the train?!!" I didn't say anything. He turned toward all of us and spat out a short string of expletives. The Spaniards retorted in vain, about some other ticket master telling them to wait there. He was not going to have any of it. More expletives followed. Finally he opened the door and led us out of the tracks onto the road.
I figured this was his bad day, what with having the same passenger sleeping on, on his train, at every last stop. It could as well have been mine, for having the same ticket master letting me off the train, after having overslept. As I started walking up the hill toward home, I felt a little droplet of water land on my arm. Slowly more followed. It was raining.
I decided that the bad day was not the ticket master's, after all. It was mine.
I boarded the train to New York at 5:35 PM. It was a Wednesday and Wednesdays are those long, drawn out days when 8 hours feel like 16. As I made my way through the cars looking for a good place to sit, I noticed the train ticket master pass me by, swearing at some poor bloke who had apparently boarded the wrong train. For no reason, I felt glad I was not in his place ( I guess its natural to the chicken-hearted).
I found a car with two and three seats on either side of the aisle. I took one on the side with two and waited impatiently for the ticket master to check my tickets so I could get some sleep, quite exhausted as I was. It was a good hour and fifteen minutes to New York and I was determined to put every minute to good use. I looked back and forth the aisle a dozen or so times before resigning to the fact that this man was not coming by any time soon. I sat there looking at the moving objects on the other side of the window. Its amazing how something as dull as a tree can hold your attention as it passes you by. At long last, he came and checked my ticket. I surrendered the credit-card-sized-paper and settled in for some sleep. Outside, the moving objects started to blur and I drifted into darkness.
I heard a knock nearby and awoke with a start. I looked around to find the ticket master looking on with curiosity that bordered on irritation. "New York Penn Station", he said rather tersely. I got up in a hurry and followed him to the exit. He unlocked the door for me. I stepped out of the car groggily, apologizing to him for the trouble. He didn't seem to care; just happy that I was finally out of the train. It makes me wonder about how long he must have been trying.
I hurried out to toward the subway trains in hope of getting to Wall Street as quickly as possible. I couldn't however, figure out which train I was supposed to be on. To save time, I made my way back to the station exit and out onto the road. I found a cab which took me to Wall Street in about fifteen minutes. It was another ten minutes to walk before I met up with my friends. I showed them around downtown Brooklyn a little bit. Then it was time to go back to Manhatten for them to see Times Square and the Empire State Building from the outside. After dinner, it was time to say good bye and I came back to New York Penn Station for my train back home. As I checked the train timings, I noticed that the next train was at 9:45. I had five minutes to buy a ticket and hurry down to the train. I got into line pushing past a couple, and apologizing. They didn't seem to care either; just too preoccupied with themselves. I suppose I could give up apologizing and live to talk about it. I bought the ticket and ran down the steps to my Dover train.
This Dover train is a finely furnished double decker with good interiors and upholstery. Shortly I found a seat beside a China man, and sat down. I kept looking around for people getting out of the train so that I could have a place with both the seats for myself. The guy on the other side of the aisle got up. I bolted across the aisle and took my place by the window, stretching my legs so that they went across the seat beside me. My feet fell just short of jutting out of the aisle. I prepared for another good spell of sleep.
I woke up to an announcement on the intercomm announcing that it was the last stop and requesting everybody to get out. The train had come to a halt. I climbed the small flight of stairs from the lower deck and went for the exit. Locked. So was the door on the other side. Suddenly the train started moving to my right. It was customary for the ticket masters to lock doors on the compartments at the rear and front so that all passengers could exit from a single car. With this 'insight' into the working of the Dover Railway Dept., I started toward what I thought was the back of the train, which was to the left, opposite to the direction the train was moving in. I had no idea whether it was left or right when we started. As I crossed the second car, I found two Spaniards and a couple, waiting at one of the doors. I decided this was it and I waited too.
The train came to a halt. Outside, on either side were continuous structures that didn't seem like platforms. Still quite in sleep, it didn't make any sense. I wrestled with the identity of this new entity until the truth suddenly came to me. We were in the yard and these structures were trains!
Apparently the other four people had known all along that were had been to the station and back. It didn't seem to bother them that we were supposed to have gotten off when it had stopped. Maybe they were waiting for Spiderman to come and rescue them from the 'villainous Ticket Master' who had pulled out of the station without letting them off. I decided they had had brain surgery and the surgeon had forgotten to put the brain back in. All doors around us were locked and the only way out was to press the Emergency button which would get the ticket master to come and open the doors. I suggested that we press the button so that he knew we were still in the train. They hesitated. I was sure the Emergency button was made for passengers in distress. Either my co-passengers didn't think so, or they didn't think they were in distress, or they didn't think at all.
At length, I pressed and spoke into the intercomm. The annoyance in the voice on the other end was quite apparent. He hung up and we took it that he was headed our way. I sat on the stairs and waited. After another ten minutes, we finally spotted the ticket master making his way through the car toward us. At the foot of the stairs on the lower deck, he looked up.
I stared at his face in disbelief. He stared back at mine. It was the same ticket master who had woken me up at New York Penn Station just a few hours back. He snapped out of it before I did and started up with stairs shaking his head. I gave way to him as he reached our level. He turned to me with a look of utter disdain and anger. Clearly I had pushed him over the edge. His eyes said it all. "What is it with you, man?! Do you ever get off the train?!!" I didn't say anything. He turned toward all of us and spat out a short string of expletives. The Spaniards retorted in vain, about some other ticket master telling them to wait there. He was not going to have any of it. More expletives followed. Finally he opened the door and led us out of the tracks onto the road.
I figured this was his bad day, what with having the same passenger sleeping on, on his train, at every last stop. It could as well have been mine, for having the same ticket master letting me off the train, after having overslept. As I started walking up the hill toward home, I felt a little droplet of water land on my arm. Slowly more followed. It was raining.
I decided that the bad day was not the ticket master's, after all. It was mine.
