Fellas

Subject A. Mature male. Aviator-like frame spectacles. Always short-sleeve shirt. Rain or sun. Funny ties. Thermal coffee jug and a tangerine. Sitting on the same table seat, even before it is announced that THAT train goes to our destination. Laptop on. Mouse cable strategically hanging on the screen. Carries a bunch of past issues of Metro.

Subject B. Chunkier male. Younger than B. Casual attire. Apple geek, geared with iPhone and iPad. Always watching a show. Knows subject A. Small talk.

Subject C. Woman. Mid 30. Formal wear. Tends to arrive almost at departure time, so never gets to choose a seat. Brushes her hair with a hairbrush, no matter who's sitting by her side. It's alright.

Subject D. Early 40 I reckon. McD breakfast guy. Full on every morning. I like his headphones. The cord looks like a rasta shoelace. Semiformal wear but quite hipster-ish on Casual Friday. No social interaction with fellow passengers.

Subject E. Male. Post mid-30s. Always wearing impecable suit. Carefully ironed shirts. Always wearing waistcoat. Nice formal coat. Carefully finished with stripped liner. Carries a knackered leather suitcase. Falls asleep like a baby as soon as he finishes his Muller yogurt. Knows Subject A, but probably because of the commuting.

Subject F. Proper english lady. I would say late 50s early 60s. Tiny glasses and granny-like shoes. Long wollen purple coat and 20s style hat. Tends to sit by my side as I normally seat quite next to the door. She hates me. I make her stand up before we have arrived at our destination. But it's not a surprise anymore. I'm on a rush to go out the first one or I don't make it to the bus. Not my fault.

Subject G. Late 30s male. Quiet, very quiet. Suited up. No social interaction. Sits down in a very straight position without resting his back on the seat. No book, no music, no paper. Also in a rush to be the first one to exit.

Subject H. Catering guy. Mid/late 50s. Nice chap. Quite enthusiastic announcing the treats of the day: 'Hot chocolate, coffee, tea, porridge, croissants, chocolate bars...'. Told me once off for pressing the lock of the doors. Even the guys from National Rail do it. 'No, that's illegal'. Never mind. No hard feelings. Haven't seen him in a couple of weeks.

Subject I. Would say late 20s. Stuck in heavy metal look. Long pony tail with plaid cap. Rolled up sleeves. Never coat. Chunky platform heavy-metal boots. Awfully long nails. He must probably plays guitar then. Carries a Nintendo DS.

And then random people.

Subject R (of revenge). Chinese girl. Probably mid 20s. I was peacefully sleeping by the window. Train was half full, so I considered putting my belongings one the seat next to mine. It's something that I never do, but due to the occupation I thought I wouldn't be a problem. Deep sleep and music own, found myself woken up with the noise of my cuttlery being drop on the floor. My banana hit my foot and my apple started to roll around the carpet. When I managed to open my eyes, I discovered this lady carelessly holding my lunch bag by a corner, putting it between the seats violently and placing her buttocks on top of my little bag of crisps stored in my bad. Said action, followed by my astonishment and the inevitable drop of my headphones, amplified the horrendous noise of crisps cracking painfully under the load, being reduced to crumbles.

Miliseconds of skepticism to which I could only react with a probably quite rude (but well deserved) 'Hey hey hey, STOP!!!'. Evil, avenging Banana surfaced from deep down inside of me. Full of anger. My needed precious little nap and my carefully calculated midday snack had just been spoiled. The fact that this occurred without a gentle interruption of my sleep with a polite 'excuse, would you mind...' Is what really infuriated me. What happened to the fellow commuter code of respect.

It is widely accepted to be rude on the tube, but not on a train. Atrocious!

I paid it back with an earlier-than-normal stand-up-and-head-to-the-door in the middle of HER sleep.

People, innit?

Re-engineer

London is certainly a big city. Its transport network expands towards the most remote place on the outskirts, yet it has to carry the equivalent of its extension in number of passenger.

There is no day that we have the daily reminder of how overcrowded the system already is, and how close it is to the edge of absolute chaos and destruction. Destruction.

Underground system in which some of the stations, the clients, the commuters, have to be managed to literally flow along the corridors just like a fluid would do in a pipe. Narrow victorian tunnels added to the small platforms do not allow the current volume of traffic at certain hours of the day, which by the way, those hours are dangerously increasing being almost all day long. Cages are closed, flow is diverted so that the way to the platform takes longer to walk. Pipes again. Straight away, it comes to my mind the famous Bernoully´s Principle. Laminar and turbulent flow. Flow should be laminar on the tube.

But it is one little disruption, a slight change of plan, and the domino effect starts. Starts every morning, and its where gamblers should really bet on: which line is going to be disrupted today?

It is therefore, of paramount importance, that the usual London commuter may be able to engineer, without a hint of doubt (although the use of gadgets is allowed), at least 3 different routes to reach their destination. Only long-months-breeded species can appreciate the fact that not only just one line will fail in the morning. Chances are, there is always at least 2 lines with ´Severe Delays´.

And here is the tricky part: A Londoner´s commuting time tends to be extensive, not because of the distance to cover, but for the planned Cushion time prepared for the case of a contingency.

Turns out that after careful engineering, said fellow commuters end up arriving probably at least 20 minutes early on daily basis. But the inability to dispose them at any occasion may result in total disaster. Destruction. Again.

And its funny that some of us, probably most of us, end up choosing our preferred location to live in accordance to our commuting needs, rather than because we like the area. Decisions like this are ruled by the number of Underground Lines and 24 four hours buses stopping at your front door.

Because in this case, more is more. More is better.

I need to move out.