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fiogf49gjkf0d It is not very often that I ride public transport; it must be over thirty years since I was last on a train, not since my teen years before I bought my first car.
With my car currently off the road for minor repairs, I am forced to join the masses who ride the rails each day on their way to the rest of their day.
It is mid morning, the peak rush is over, but still the carriage is still moderately full, a cyclist in his multi colored spandex suit tries in vain to wedge his bicycle between two seats to prevent it from falling over, much to the chagrin of the business man trying to read his newspaper in the seat opposite.
Four rows over to my left, is that man drunk?, his face a mass of dirt and grime, a three or four day stubble pushing it's way through, his clothes disheveled and dirty, and just the hint of a urine smell.
Maybe not drunk, his eyes are sunken, vacant, possible heroin, or worse, meth or ice, there is a substantial gap between him and the rest of the passengers, he is alone in his own little world both mentally and physically.
Behind me comes the cry of a young child, bored with having to sit still as the train trundles across the landscape, there is nothing to look at, the scenery is flat and unadorned with anything to look at, occasionally a whisp of smoke appears from behind a small hill to indicate that there is life beyond our window.
I turn to look, the child is of oriental persuasion, his mother loaded down with bags that appear to be full of vegetables and other grocery items, she has the look of one who is resigned to her place in the universe, subservient to her children and the world at large, is she content to endlessly cook, look after her children, her man, but wait, does have a man?
She is a widow to whom the world has dealt a cruel blow, left to bring up her family on a pittance, barely able to made ends meet, the groceries have to be metered out to last a month until her next welfare payment is given.
She and the child are dressed well, her man is a hard worker but in his effort to give his family the best life has to offer is neglecting the same family, working long hours, too tired to play with the children when he returns home, barely has time to eat before he is off to have a few hours sleep before he is back at work.
The business man has put away his newspaper and has now opened his attaché case, spread out on the seat next to him are stacks of papers, his expression is of intense scrutiny, his brow is furrowed, there is something amiss with what he reads.
There is a mistake in his report, his business in on the verge of collapse, he is facing bankruptcy, no no no, a minion is being assessed, his work is below standard, shall we let him go, or give him another chance, or is his work beyond reproach, a promotion for this tireless employee.
My attention is drawn to the couple opposite, they sit facing each other rather than sit side by side, this is not good, there has been an argument, their voices are low but there is anger in the quiet whisperings that reach me over the noise of the wheels.
She is accusing him of an affair, there are tears in his eyes, he does not want to let her go, this can be worked out, it was only a bit of harmless flirting with no intention on going further.
He drops his head and stares at the floor; she looks blankly out the window.
A commotion has broken out involving the pot head and the cyclist, the drunk has kicked the bicycle while trying to navigate the aisle between the seats and is now haranguing the cyclist, two other passengers stand up to placate the drunk, but he pushes them aside.
Other passenger grabs the drunk and forces him to a vacant seat just a security guard arrives, someone must have activated the security alarm, the drunk is quickly subdued and the cyclist returns to his seat, his face red with anger, for him, this may not be over, for the next few minutes he stares at the drunk, revenge going through his mind!!
Damn, what have I missed, the couple opposite are now sitting side by side, she with her head on his shoulder and he with her arm around her, the business man has come to a decision, a smile is on his face as he returns his papers to the case, the child is now quiet, the altercation frightening him, he is being held close by his mother.
The train begins to slow as the station approaches, twenty five minutes of our lives painted across the tapestry of history, but who will remember.
Alex.
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