Train Of Thought.
I'm in an astoundingly bad mood, and am also six hours away from my final destination. My head and heart are pounding from the conflicting feelings of being very sorry to leave where I am, and being bloody glad to get home.
I start to wonder where the 'twat on the train' is.
It's a rule of ‘Rail Travel’ in this country: you cannot travel a lengthy distance without encountering a stranger - usually sat next to you – that you would not murder with a smile on your face. He is the ‘twat on the train’.
Perplexingly, all is fine. It’s a bit crammed. But that’s all.
With great relief I open a can of strong drink. I’ve had a couple before I got on but it’s fine. I’m unhappy. I’m allowed to be unhappy and have a can of strong drink? Yes? Yes. There is no ‘twat on the train’ so I am ok.
A couple get on and sit at the aisle opposite me. I assume them to be married.
He’s a ‘snorter’.
“Oh God,” I think to myself. “Just don’t say anything. He’s got a sinus problem or something. Just keep quiet.”
His wife seems very serene and totally involved in her book. CAN SHE NOT HEAR?
She must be deaf. She’d have divorced him.
Christ. I’d leave him. I’m not even married to him. Fuck.
I can LITERALLY hear the grotty sputum gurgling around every single cavity in the man’s head. EVERY ONE.
Looking at my watch, I realise I have at least four hours of Captain Disgusting to put up with.
The easy option is to put in my headphones and ignore him. But it’s busy, the metal tube I’m in is crammed with people and I’m unwilling to give up any of my senses. Not when there’s this many randoms around.
I shove my hands into my pockets in frustration and find a massive amount of napkins – the sort you pick up when you have children, thinking they might be handy later in the day.
Slamming them down in the tray in front of the Snorter across the aisle I say:
Me: HERE. Thought you might like these.
Snorter: Oh. Erm. Did I drop them or something?
Me: No. It just sounds like you REALLY NEED TO BLOW YOUR FUCKING NOSE.
An hour later Snorter and his wife depart. His wife pauses only to peer at me and say:
Snorting Wife: I just want to say – I think you are a very rude man.
I think nothing of this, until York, were - with a flourish - I get off the train, and realise a number of things:
1) I do not live in York, or indeed anywhere near it.
2) I’m really going to have trouble getting anywhere near my home at this hour.
3) I am astonishingly drunk.
4) I should probably make some resolutions. Along the lines of : ‘not being a total cunt. All of the time.’
5) I could very well be the ‘Twat On The Train’
Scratching at my unsuccessful Christmas beard, I resolve to not only get home but to stop being totally unpleasant, probably starting with people I’ve not spoken to in awhile.
After all – what could go wrong?