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June 05, 2005

Egotistical Reflection

Newbridge Train Station - Tuesday 6th April

Yes, I’m on my Easter holidays from college and yes, I’m still catching the train to Dublin. There’s no rest for the wicked as they say. Ahem. I’ve decided to spend the day with fat American tourists, taking in the more cultural side of the city. On the train journey up, I begin searching through my phonebook to see whom I’ll arrange to do lunch with. I text Margaret, who several minutes later informs me that she has to look after her little cousins all day. I duly reply with a suggestion of bringing them to St. Stephen’s Green and feeding them to the ducks. She responds with, “As much as I’d love to, I have a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.” Little does she know, but let’s move on shall we.

When I arrive in grand old Hueston Station the place is, as always, bustling with angry commuters just waiting to have a go at Iarnród Éireann. Flashback: Several weeks ago I sat on a relatively crowded Arrow on it’s way to Hueston. Somewhere between Sallins & Naas and Hazelhatch Stations, the Arrow came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Que the crackly intercom explanation. The driver said “I’m sorry about this delay but there’s been a fatality on the tracks.” The lady beside me tutted. “Typical of Irish Rail,” she said. Absentmindedly, I grinned at the black humour of it all. Priceless. Flashback Ends.

So anyway, as I was saying before I was interrupted by that nasty flashback, I had just arrived in Hueston to begin my cultural day out in the big city. I headed for the number 91 bus along with the rest of the commuting collective. After the pushing, shoving, elbowing and kicking I hoped onto the bus and made my way upstairs. Being one of the first commuters on the bus can be a mixed bag of kittens. (One being a tabby and the other dead, suspected homicide on the part of the tabby.) For when you get to the top, deciding where to sit can often determine who eventually sits beside you. Your seat partner, if you will. I look around. The decision has to be made within a few seconds. If I go to the very front, I’ll be landed with sitting beside someone’s kids pretending to be driving the bus all the way to Dublin Castle. Or I could sit at the other extreme, the very back. On any other bus, the back would usually be occupied by junkies or thick-accented Dubs but not on the 91. On the 91, the back of the bus is more often than not filled with 1st year college students who sit there to be cool, as such. Like they did in Secondary School. I can hear other commuters coming up the stairs behind me now. Gotta make a quick decision. I’ll compromise and sit in the middle. This has left me vulnerable to all sorts of weirdoes who frequent the buses of Dublin. I could end up sitting beside the dread of all commuters – the talker. An oddball who despite your obvious attempts to ignore them, will talk to you anyway.

Commuters start to join me upstairs. Some up the front and some to the very back and even more to the middle. I watch nervously as more and more people clamber upstairs. It’s come to the stage where every seat is now occupied by at least one person. All of the remaining commuters who come upstairs will have the luxury of choosing who they sit beside. I’ve had this perk myself on a few occasions. You get to sit beside who ever you choose. I usually choose the girl I’ve fallen in love with two seconds before hand. If there’s none of them, I’ll settle for a respectable business looking type or another student. Anyone else would be seat-partner-suicide. As oddball people pass me looking for a seat I try to look as serious and un-approving as possible. The wait is agony! I can’t take it anymore so I turn my head and stare out at where the Luas tracks are being built. A few moments later someone sits beside me. Whoever they are they smell like flowers and candy. I turn my head slowly away from the window to take a look and Damn! If it’s not a gorgeous model! I can tell by the legs. And also by the fact that on our journey into town she was talking on the phone to one of her beautiful friends, no doubt, about todays shoot. I sat in quiet egotistical reflection. She sat beside me. She could have sat beside anyone but no, she specifically choose me. It must be the writer image I got goin’ on. Chicks dig it.

Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist (page 6)

Posted by LiamG at June 5, 2005 08:59 PM