Travel rant

My love/hate relationship with trains knows no bounds. On the day that I intended to board a train from Edinburgh to Aberdeen, my paranoia got the better of me and I arrived at the train station far earlier than usual. Almost three hours earlier. At least I wasn’t late.

To fill the large gaps in between I decided to preoccupy myself with a newspaper while attempting to inhale a cup of coffee, only to promptly spill the hot beverage over my shirt. It wasn’t that bad actually in the end; my fellow passengers sitting next to me were now welcomed to smell my newly acquired fragrance, Eau de Mocha and it surprisingly didn’t taste like napalm – win/win. The newspaper on the other hand, after reading a few pages, was now a sopping mop whose headlines had blurred between Miley Cyrus and Lionel Messi.

As a student I imagine it would be odd to an extent that I opt for the more expensive method of travel, it was, of course, eating into my beer money! Buses didn’t/don’t seem to suit me. I was utterly convinced of that fact after taking a bus between Inverness and Edinburgh two days in a row. I unduly forced myself to sleep rather than face the chatter with my doom-buggy buddies.

There is a peace that accompanies riding on the train, a serenity that follows from observing mountains and hills and lakes etc. Undoubtedly there is a nervous wait for the train to shudder its way into the station. A sudden sprint ensues as the platform for each train is revealed like a magic trick from a crafty magician. Recent memories of such a sprint were in vain as I, gasping for breath, saw the back end of the train depart without hesitation on its way to Euston train station. You could understand my now, paranoia with regards to missing trains.

That paranoia, however, is preferable over any double decker bus. I, like a dumbstruck Bambi, hobble with extreme effort to mount the stairs up to the top of the monolith. The bus drivers seem to have a sadistic pleasure from inflicting torture and making things difficult for their passengers. As soon as you even think about finding a seat you are lurched forward, almost head-butting a nearby city goer in the process. How could they be so cruel?!?

I struggle on, half spilt coffee in hand, towards my next destination. Not aware of what precarious situation I may encounter next.

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