My journeys on the train are something that I always think about but don't talk about much because I forget them by the time I sit at my desk or get home and start watching TV. Today I realized a few things that I subconsciously do when I'm waiting for the central line train to work at around 8 am.
First, it is absolutely essential that I go to exactly the right place on the platform so that the carriage I get on is parallel to where I am going to change for the jubilee line in about 20 mins or so. What is this urge to save about 10 seconds of time? And you know for a fact that everyone who gets on this carriage and is going to change line is doing it for exactly the same reason. When the time comes to change (and it is clear a lot of people will be getting off), others on the train become excited, as the chances of them getting a seat are very high. This is when the books and newspapers come down and some serious competition happens. You have to be positioned in the correct place if you want to get a seat on a packed train. Somehow this gives you power among the other passengers, like you purposely intended to stand in that place (even though you didn't). You're still proud of your perfect positioning nevertheless.
This brings me on to my next point. When you have a seat on the train, you feel like you own the train and feel like those who are standing are giving you the evils. Getting a seat during rush hour seems so much more satisfactory than getting a seat on an empty train somehow. I feel like I can do so much more than someone who is standing. I won't lose temple run because I can hold my phone properly and don't have to hold onto the poles. I can get anything I want from my bag because I can actually get to it easily. Secretly because I like some mischief, I pack my kindle away to indicate that I'm getting off my train but I'm really not. When I don't get off the train, there is bound to be someone who gives me the look at what I just did.
Flashback. The guy with the massive rucksack, it's half the size of another person. How stupid is he? Why can't he put his rucksack down like every other person with some sense? Fair enough he may be getting off at the next stop so doesn't want to get too comfortable, but still, his rucksack was in my face and it was horrible. I couldn't read my kindle in peace. I could feel that the lady standing next to me was feeling the same way but neither of us said anything (we were both looking at the guy's rucksack in disgust).
I can't think of much else right now, but they'll keep coming. I love the tube and I love London.
First, it is absolutely essential that I go to exactly the right place on the platform so that the carriage I get on is parallel to where I am going to change for the jubilee line in about 20 mins or so. What is this urge to save about 10 seconds of time? And you know for a fact that everyone who gets on this carriage and is going to change line is doing it for exactly the same reason. When the time comes to change (and it is clear a lot of people will be getting off), others on the train become excited, as the chances of them getting a seat are very high. This is when the books and newspapers come down and some serious competition happens. You have to be positioned in the correct place if you want to get a seat on a packed train. Somehow this gives you power among the other passengers, like you purposely intended to stand in that place (even though you didn't). You're still proud of your perfect positioning nevertheless.
This brings me on to my next point. When you have a seat on the train, you feel like you own the train and feel like those who are standing are giving you the evils. Getting a seat during rush hour seems so much more satisfactory than getting a seat on an empty train somehow. I feel like I can do so much more than someone who is standing. I won't lose temple run because I can hold my phone properly and don't have to hold onto the poles. I can get anything I want from my bag because I can actually get to it easily. Secretly because I like some mischief, I pack my kindle away to indicate that I'm getting off my train but I'm really not. When I don't get off the train, there is bound to be someone who gives me the look at what I just did.
Flashback. The guy with the massive rucksack, it's half the size of another person. How stupid is he? Why can't he put his rucksack down like every other person with some sense? Fair enough he may be getting off at the next stop so doesn't want to get too comfortable, but still, his rucksack was in my face and it was horrible. I couldn't read my kindle in peace. I could feel that the lady standing next to me was feeling the same way but neither of us said anything (we were both looking at the guy's rucksack in disgust).
I can't think of much else right now, but they'll keep coming. I love the tube and I love London.
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