Saturday, August 8, 2015

The Magic of Travel


I travelled up north, inside china, last week… I went by D train which is their second-best in class (the G trains are best). I wished there was a G train available but sadly, D’s were all we could get.

It was a three hour journey, each way. On the way up, a cacophony of screaming infants accompanied a solid performance from the man seated beside me as he industriously fingered every last ball of snot from his nose and artistically flicked them asunder.

On the way back, I had a feverish woman beside me for most of the journey which was a blessing for the short game (the long game was a gamble of course, but you take any win you can get). When she got off a couple of men boldly stole the vacant seats until they were kicked out by the righteous ticket owners — two pregnant women each carrying infant boys, each seated atop their mothers' laps to avoid seat costs. Joy. The boy beside me decided that it was Boner Time and that he’d have a fiddle with it, which ultimately led him to the announcement, "Mummy, I’m gonna pee!". It took her considerable effort to convince him not to let loose where he sat. It took even more effort for me to fight the instinct of abandoning my seat for safer (and drier) grounds. To punish me for my obvious disgust, the kid later exploded with a sudden sneeze, streaming thick strands of white snot at me. As I had assumed a defensive posture early in the piece, he merely coated the back of one of my legs. The mother giggled and gallantly withheld the service of her pack of tissues. Class, all the way.

Of course, it’s miserable of me to be whining about my pathetic first world troubles, I know. There are farmers who’d give their left nut to have snot flicked at them as they lounged atop padded seats in air-conditioned comfort listening to the choir of Angels that screaming children are romantically equated to here, I know. I could have been seated beside something a lot more malicious than a mere feverish crone, I know. And the boy could well have let loose with a torrent of pee that would have had me stinking like an abandoned tom-cat throughout my remaining 2 hour subway ride across town after the train trip, I know. So, lord, or fate or the stars or the Spaghetti Monster… thanks for only letting it suck as much as it did. That was awesome. I almost want to do it again. After I forget some more.