Last week I read an article in the paper, written by an 'ordinary' commuter. It consisted of a detailed map of a typical train carriage, together with an explanation of the modus operandi he would use in order to a) get a seat in the mornings, and b) ensure no 'undesirables' would sit next to him. The map in itself was a work of art, albeit a special work of art you might see at an "outsider art" exhibition. Reading that, along with the intricate explanations accompanying it, you might be forgiven for thinking this man had tendencies bordering on the insane.
But as a former regular London-bound commuter, I could understand his anxiety on both counts. Travelling to work by train was an exhausting experience, not just because it's crowded and noisy, but because you're in a small, public space in which you're closely confined with other people, yet unable to control their behaviour. Some people (I'm not saying me specifically, just some people...) can find that sort of thing quite stressful, on the whole.
Now, getting-a-seat-wise I was generally lucky. Lucky enough that both of Southend's two stations are at the start of their respective lines, so I'd never have to stand. The only problem that would ever arise would be on the occasions when someone got on just before me and chose 'my' seat. I don't know why I had a favourite seat; I just did. It's the same as when I go to the gym; I'm annoyed if someone's had the gall to use 'my' locker. It must be one of many signs that I haven't got enough truly important stuff going on in my life. But anyway...
...if anyone ever did sit in 'my' seat I'd shoot them a furious glare and then imagine something mildly unpleasant happening to them during their day, like stepping in a pile of dogs' mess or slipping on a empty crisp packet in front of someone they really wanted to impress (it makes me wonder if whenever things like that happen to me it's in payback for unknowingly taking someone's 'usual' train seat or gym locker...but if it actually was then I unknowingly do those things far more often than would be normal). My 'favourite' seats are those ones right by the doors; in a bank of two that face the backs of the seats in front, which means you can't put your feet up.
People putting their feet up on the seats in front of them is my absolute worst 'train bugbear'. Worse than music blaring from phones and iPods; worse than braying tones on mobiles asking what's for dinner or complaining about why Sharon from reception can't do Roger's filing on Wednesdays. Why are there signs on trains telling people to "keep your feet off the seats"? People who don't put their feet on the seats don't need them, and those who do just ignore them.
Once I was travelling by train to a meeting with a colleague I didn't know very well. He sat down and immediately stretched his legs out onto the seat in front. Without thinking, I slapped the leg closest to me and hissed "get your feet off those seats; people have got to sit on those later!" like an angry mother. He laughed. The people sitting on the adjacent seats laughed. But I wasn't being funny.
I don't mind people sitting next to me on trains; I just wish I could control who I got. If the doors opened, people got on and then stood in an obedient line while I decided who'd be the least offensive to my delicate sensibilities, that'd be great. But that isn't what happens. Usually I get the person who smells like last night's takeaway, or who's doing their make-up (once I got someone who took out a pair of tweezers and plucked their eyebrows on the train!), or who's intent on listening to music I hate through tinny headphones, or who just has to call everyone in their phone's address book lest they're left alone with their own thoughts for more than three seconds. Or, on a really bad day, all four.
Derren Brown's tip for dissuading people from sitting next to you on the train is to grin at them inanely whilst invitingly patting the seat next to yours. But that approach only works if you're a man. If you're a woman trying that technique then the results can end up being quite scary. Especially if you're coming home on the late Friday night train. Especially if you live in Essex. Definitely not recommended.
So there you go...proof that talking about public transport as a commuter can make you sound insane alarmingly quickly. I may have misjudged that article...now I'm going to go back to it and see if I can pick up any genuine tips.
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