Train life: Chapter 6

Monday means a new week of commuting. It might be a new week, but not surprisingly there are a lot of the same old crew around.

Brolly barger

You've seen these people. The minute even a drop of rain falls from the skies, and they've whipped out a golf umbrella big enough to shelter Kim Kardashian West's entire entourage. 

They then enter the train and shake out the umbrella, in the same style as a wet dog shakes itself, soaking everyone in the vicinity. That's not the worst of it, though. The worst is when they get off the train and they then hold the umbrella not vertically down towards the ground, but horizontally -sticking a good foot both in front and behind them. Even when they're turning corners or going up steps! You have to give them a good 20 paces to ensure your morning commute isn't topped off by an accidental stabbing. Not that that would be the worst thing to happen on Scotrail on a Monday morning.

Considerate commuters

Ah, you were wondering when I'd get to someone like this, weren't you? The sweet commuters. I normally encounter this species on the homeward journey. When seats are like a winning lottery ticket, and you're standing with your face pushed into someone's armpit, while trying to balance your rucksack and attempting to not faint, you'll see the Considerate Commuter give up their seat for a pregnant woman, or an elderly man, or someone with small kids. They'll also be the type to offer you some water if you get a coughing fit, or throw you an empathetic glance if someone's bag hits you.

Unusually for me, there is nothing I hate about the Considerate Commuters - they're a breath of fresh air in the stuffy train that is commuting. I admire their ability to retain their niceness in such a horrid environment. 

Maybe one day, I'll grow up and be just like them!

You know, maybe.