Hell
Popular opinion has it that public transport is a convenient and efficient way of getting from A to B. This, like most other matters of public opinion, is complete nonsense. While it is indeed an efficient way of getting around, it’s about as convenient as a root canal or prostate exam.
We tolerate root canals and prostate exams because they are the least horrible option, the other being that your teeth fall out of your head or you die of cancer. That doesn’t mean we like it, well most of us anyway.
In much the same way we tolerate public transport for the sake of getting where we need to go in a timeframe that doesn’t resemble the construction schedule of a power plant. Living in a city of roughly sixty gazillion people (citation needed) means that if a squirrel runs across a road anywhere in the city, all the roads very quickly resemble a very badly designed parking lot.
The only alternative for real people is using the public transport infrastructure. Sure, you can cycle or walk, but that’s not something real people do. Real people also don’t commute using micro lights and hovercrafts, and they certainly also don’t walk around in Tesco wearing spandex and a helmet.
Nope, for real people, the only alternative is using public transport. This however, has one major drawback: People. Londoners tend to shy away from human contact as much as possible, especially if it’s a stranger. People is our kryptonite, and I honestly believe that our deep dislike for our fellow city dwellers is a major contributing factor to why London is one of the best cities in the world. We are sceptical machines powered by passive aggressive energy. If only we could harness this passive aggressive energy we could solve the world’s energy problems in a day.
There are many reasons why public transport is loathsome, but all can be attributed to one or more passengers on the train or bus breaking the cardinal rule of public transport: Make it as easy as possible for your fellow passengers to ignore you.
See, the purpose of public transport isn’t to get from A to B. It’s to get from A to B without acknowledging the existence of a single human being. From the moment you enter the barrier until you are well out of the station on the other end, you try to create a happy little illusion that there isn’t a single other person on this planet. People bury their heads in books and newspapers or listen to their iPods, all in an attempt to maintain this pleasant fiction. It’s the commuter’s equivalent of going to your happy place
The problem arises when other passengers make it hard to ignore them. These include such sins as a cavalier approach to personal hygiene or the mistaken notion that everybody on the train would like nothing more than to listen to your selection of whatever hip hop track is currently “the shiznit” over the crackling speakers of their mobile phone.
Other indiscretions include seated passengers who believe that their knees are embroiled in a centuries old rivalry and they need to be kept as far away from each other as possible. Even if this means that fellow passengers are not only treated to an unwelcome crotch display, but also that people seated next to the perpetrator are forced into an uncomfortable side saddle seated position in an effort to avoid physical contact.
Then of course you get the self-centred chuckleheads who take it too far. These are the people who occupy the seats meant for those less able to stand, yet refuse to give it up when such a person enters the carriage or bus.
I’ll be the first to admit that when I enter a train or bus it’s the first seat I look for. They usually offer it’s occupant a tiny measure more personal space by either having a bit more leg room or the luxury of having another person only on one side. It’s a wonderful feeling getting one of these seats in rush hour. It makes one feel special, as if you are important and powerful. However, to quote Uncle Ben: “With great power comes great responsibility.” And your responsibility is to stand your lazy arse up when an old lady needs the seat.
However, the transgression that trumps all others is people who look for their ticket right in front of the exit barrier and subsequently cause a bottle neck where people pile on each other because they were so busy ignoring each other that they fail to notice the heap of annoyed people rapidly growing in front of them. What baffles me most about the ticket hunters is why they do this. It’s not unexpected that you will need a ticket when you leave the station. The odds that TFL changed the rules on exit barriers in the time it took you to get from Stratford to Oxford Circus are very slim.
Often I’m concerned that it’s a desperate cry for help because the only explanation is that the person hopes to commit suicide by getting the fellow passengers get so annoyed that they trample the poor sod to death. A kind of death by travel card, if you will.
I for one feel that all the engineering works in the world wouldn’t do nearly as much as an educational campaign on accepted public transport behaviour. It would be easy, cheap and would improve the lives of millions of Londoners. All you need are signs all over the network with one simple phrase:
“In the interest of public safety, please make it as easy as possible for your fellow passengers to pretend you don’t exist… Oh, and mind the gap.”
