Commute

I can’t breathe.

It’s five stops. You can survive five stops, the train’s not that full. I mean, it’s definitely filled up a lot since you got on. No more seats free. Standing room only.

Well, I say standing ‘room’ – I don’t really feel, strictly speaking, there’s space for the guy squeezed up in the aisle next to my seat. I’m one sharp bend in the tracks from getting a healthy face full of his arse.

This carriage is hot. Really hot.

I can’t breathe.

Yes you can, don’t be stupid. You just need to focus. Slow down. Concentrate.

Five stops. Five stops.

Five.

Five stops, five things.

Look for five things, slow the brain down a bit. Five things beginning with the letter….. ‘B’, why not.

Ok, ‘B’ for…. baby! That’s one! Wait, that is a baby right? When are they toddlers, one-ish? Two? Yeah, he’s younger than one. Ok, definitely ‘B’ for baby and not ‘T’ for toddler, so that’s one thing down.

Four things left. What else…..

Oh, the not-toddler is in a baby-stroller. I’ll take that. I mean, it’s a bit American. I suppose technically in Britain it’s a pushchair, but I’ll have it. Needs must.

So hot in here.

Ok, baby-stroller makes two. Three more to go. And I hadn’t even noticed we had stopped! Pulling out of the station now, four stops left. Time flies.

That was two nicely on the spin, rapid fire! Let’s keep that pace going.

Let’s have a look to the left, with a bit of luck there'll be a banjo player across from me. Damn, no such luck.

I see a youngster with headphones... wire though. Was thinking I could get a cheeky ‘bluetooth headphones’ out of that kid. Well, I say ‘kid’ – he's definitely a teenager. If only I’d gone for ‘T'. Would still be doing well; I reckon that little one could pass for a toddler at a push.

Actually, forget that – would’ve robbed me of my brilliant baby-stroller.

Oh!!! Come on, pay attention. He's reaching under the seat for his.... backpack!!! That's three, two more to go.

And if he's getting his backpack ready, we must be getting close to the next stop.

Ok – momentum, momentum. Keep your eyes peeled, they’re coming along like busses now. Like ‘B' for busses. God, I sound sophisticated. Really hope all this chat is staying in my head.

This guy in the suit is getting ready to leave too. Is he going to be a proper gent and grab a nice briefcase for me? .... no. Ok, can’t win them all. Keep looking.

Losing that momentum now. Come one, how am I on a packed train at rush hour and there isn’t a single poor sod trying to manoeuvre their ‘B' for bike around?! Come on British public transport, live up to your reputation.

I could just go ‘B' for British person, I reckon that’s a safe bet. Hell, I fit that one.

No, that’s too lazy. Keep looking. Just two more.

That girl, does she...? Yes!!! She has her hair tied up with a bandana! Thank God for summer vibes. Finally, something good about this heat.

Ok one more. And actually, I complain about the heat, but it’s definitely cooled down a bit now. I think because the carriage has emptied a little. It’s definitely emptied. Hey, no more arse in my face! I hadn’t even noticed. I can extend my search behind me now.

And what should my eyes behold but a brown paper package.

…tied up with string.

Alright, enough of that. I would rather keep the crippling anxiety than have that bloody song stuck in my head.

Right, that is five things done, three stops to go and one considerably emptier, cooler train carriage.

Lovely, can relax a bit now.

What is wrapped up in that paper, books? It’s a weird shape. And whose is it, actually? Has someone just left it on the seat next to them while they’ve gone for a pee?

Well, hopefully a pee. It’s liable to get robbed if they’re away for any… longer functions.

Seriously though, whose is that? Who was sat there? He didn’t get off when the carriage emptied out earlier, did he?

Why am I saying he? I’m pretty sure I remember it was a bloke sat there.

I hope it’s not a gift or something that he’s forgotten.

It was definitely forgotten, I assume. Not… left.

Who was sat there? I’m fairly certain it was a guy. Yeah, definitely sure of that. What did he look like?

He wasn’t ‘B’ for brown, was he?

Ok, what the hell was that? Where did that come from? Stop that right now, that’s not how you think.

I mean, I understand there’s a reason some people think like that, given some of the things that have been in the news for the past…. well, decades. And I mean, there is a reason people profile. Just, like, purely statistically. It’s a useful tool in policing and stuff.

It’s not racist.

…which is exactly the kind of justification a racist would use, so stop it now!!!

But thinking about it – ‘B’ for brown or not – I do think he looked a bit…. off. I’m sure I clocked him when I got on. He was on when I got on, wasn’t he?

Yeah, I saw him and remember there was something that just didn’t seem right about him.

Oh come on, you’re being ridiculous. You don’t have a clue who was sat there.

Two stops to go.

It’s nothing – someone left their stuff on the seat while they went to the loo, or they forgot it in the rush off the train. It was really busy before, remember.

It’s fine.

Even so, I should say something, right? That’s what the announcements all say: “if you see something that doesn’t look right”. I think this constitutes.

“See it, say it, sort it.”

But if it really is nothing you’ll look like an idiot, wasting people’s time over a bit of brown paper.

But if it is something…

Oh God, we’re moving again. I didn’t realise we had even stopped.

One stop to go.

It’s the terminus too. Busy station, especially this time of day. Lots of people.

I should say something. It doesn’t matter if you waste someone’s time, it’s their job to have their time wasted – we’re told specifically to say something. Actually, who can I even tell? Is there a guard on this train? I could’ve sworn there was before, did they get off?

I should’ve gotten off. I could’ve gotten off at the last stop and got the bus the rest of the way home. I would’ve been fine. And I could’ve told someone at the station about the brown paper and they could’ve called ahead to get someone to check it out.

Oh God, oh Jesus. “We are now approaching…”

Last stop.

Busy stop.

End of the line.

I can’t breathe.

I miss the arse in my face. I would’ve never even noticed the damn package if those beautiful buttocks had just stayed right where they were. Ignorance is bliss.

“Now approaching… make sure you take your belongings with you”. Is that supposed to be funny? Or ironic at least? I never can remember the actual definition of irony.

Oh God. I can’t…. oh hell…

End of the line.

I can’t breathe.