Train of thought

There are of course times when public transportation can raise a smile or our sense of community spirit to the best of humanity. Sitting on a Craigieburn train one day (not in any particular hurry so therefore not stressed), it came to a halt. There we remained, trapped so to speak in our capsule, unable to get off, unable to get on with things. It was a nice day, the train was not full so the feeling of claustrophobia was nowhere in my sight. I was simply resigned to waiting...as were the other passengers obviously.

Two minutes...five minutes...ten...and an announcement from a less than impressed weary train driver...”I'm sorry passengers it would appear that there is only one platform in operation at North Melbourne Station today and that every other train in the city is being allowed on ahead of us. I do apologise.” I looked at the girl opposite me who had looked up from her mobile phone at the sound of the disembodied voice and our eyes met in mutual amusement. Even train drivers have bad days.

My regular line has been subjected to dastardly track works. This means that anyone leaving the city after 7.30pm gets off-loaded at Clifton Hill and squashed on to a connecting bus. This adds its own special adventure to the journey. It's pitch black outside the bus and there are so many bodies crammed on that you couldn't see where you are even if you had night vision goggles. Intelligent drivers then who announce the stations so you don't have to count them off on the unfamiliar road trip, are really appreciated. One such journey where the stops were not being announced led to confusion and subsequent uprising. One passenger started loudly announcing the stations for the driver. We had a very nervous old Japanese man with a bicycle sharing the bus who was anxious not to miss his stop. Why he didn't ride his bike instead of adding it to the cramped space was beyond me but no one seemed that fussed by the inconvenience of accommodating it. This is what I mean about the best of humanity. Take us off the impersonal train and we become people again, able to talk to and help each other out. People talk on the trams and buses, it just seems to be trains that turns us into ice sculptures.

On another bus replacement night we passengers were left standing in the freezing cold, stormy dark waiting for a late connection. Did we grumble? Did we complain? No, we chatted and got to know each other. We stamped our feet to keep warm and compared climates from our originating homes. We reminisced about holidays in the sun. We laughed and made the time pass quickly by betting on which one of us would not last and opt for the gathering taxis. “Ah, where's your balls mate, are you man or mouse?” to the businessman opting out and heading for the cab. You meet some nice people at the bus stop. You meet no one on the train.

Points however for the funniest announcement I've heard so far goes to the driver watching over the cctv, a smart arse school boy force the doors and leap on at the last minute as the train started to pull away. “Would the passenger who just forced the door please note that this is a very dangerous practise. Falling between the train and track could cause death and at the very least the rest of us wouldn't enjoy watching you lose a leg. So don't be an idiot.”