Train stories

We've chronicled train observations before. You remember the briefcase bartender and the man with the four tall boys of Carling during a 50 minute journey. This week has provided some similar amusement, but of a more refined nature.

The British are a reserved lot. They are very private and, well, antisocial. Many items of their culture reveal this to be true. First, they are homebodies. The home is their castle and rarely do they leave it. In fact they are the kings of DIY for this very reason. Another example is the fact that bathroom stalls are almost always full walls right down to the floor. Brits also rarely make eye contact when passing others on the street. Its like they live in their own bubble world not to be interferred with by recognizing the other human beings around them. This phenomenon is also found during their excessive mobile phone talking. They won't talk to their neighbour on the street, but they will chat loudly on their mobile nonstop, while walkng on the street and while sitting on the train. There seems to be a significant amount of denial while in public places. It's as if they don't like to acknowledge the existance of others because it would threaten their privacy.

Yesterday I sat near two old men on the train who clearly thought that they were in their own world with no other humans nearby. These gentlemen, and gentleman is really the only word for them, as they were smartly dressed with proper hats and coats and shiny shoes, had the most profane vocabulary I've heard in a while. Not so gentlemanly. It was quite odd to see men who were old enough to be my grandfather saying that they couldn't wait to have a "fag" immediately upon disembarking the train. They sneered openly at all the other passengers. They were proper grumpy old men. Their conversation was reminiscent of Statler & Waldorf from the Muppets. It would have been fine if this heckling was taking place in the comfort of their own home, car or theatre box but it was easily heard by all the rest of us on the train.

Another man on the train today also seemed to think he was in his own private world while riding the train. He boarded the train at the stop after mine. He sat down a few rows ahead in a seat facing me. I didn't really notice him until I heard a funny sound. I looked up to see him saving with his electric razor while reading the paper. Next I'll see some woman shaving her legs on train while taking a swig from a 40oz bottle of vodka. Classy. When I start talking outloud to myself on the train it's time to come home to Canada.