High-Viz Ability

I found myself on a train about an hour earlier than usual going to work the other morning.
Without getting into jokes about mixing up my sleeping arrangements & bodily functions, let's just say I won't make a habit of it.
I had thought I was generally an early riser - I get a pre-peak discount, & I'm one of the first in the office. That qualifies me for a level of smugness.
That level has been diminished by sharing the experience of regularly earlier risers.

Waiting on the platform in the cold, I realised that I wouldn't be getting my usual choice seat (where you don't have to worry about someone sitting next to you), as there were so many people lined up where they knew the doors would be, & I just don't have that killer instinct (in the morning, at least), or indeed the desire to measure out where the doors should be at that time of the day.

When the train arrived, I casually joined the back of the throng that wanted to push through the opening doors - asserting their authority for having stood in the same place for however-many years (to the millimetre) - & I found a seat somewhere in the middle of the carriage.
Then I started to look around.
It was too obvious to miss, & I should have seen it before boarding.
This train was going to be full of people whose jobs require them to wear high-viz shirts or vests - of either colour.

You're thinking "So what?" (I can tell.)
The intriguing thing is that, an hour later, the two or three high-viz wearers in my usual carriage truly stand out.
In this carriage, I was the anomaly for not drawing attention to myself (by wearing a standard-issue dark overcoat).
You could say that's ironic (& you'd probably be right, because I'm not even intending to be humorous).
You could say that's defeatist & I should just try harder.
You could say that's bringing the reader too much into the conversation & possibly off track, which is probably the point of these posts anyway.
Let's face it, a post on the track would definitely derail someone's train of thought.

Where on earth were all of these people going?
Well, for one thing, they were going somewhere accessible by public transport, which narrows things down somewhat.
I began to speculate.
I know one minor industrial estate a few stations along.
When no-one got off, I thought that people might change trains a few stations farther on & head off to other industrial estates.
When that didn't pan out, I thought they might change trains to go to some of the stations this train skips.
When that also didn't seem to be the case, I simply sat back & forced myself to stop pointless speculation (leaving such to the time of writing).

Half a carriage worth of travellers (& very few more high-viz wearers joined us) were headed effectively to the airport or the city.
When you think about it, the former makes some sense, but the latter jars with my sensibilities - until I began to question my own prejudices.

1. The city has a lot of construction - whether its infrastructure or high-rise, there are a lot of people on those sites who must wear high-viz.
2. Not everyone in high-viz is being held up by a shovel.
3. High-viz is worn under any circumstance where you think that the people around you cannot distinguish you from the background.

Many of these jobs require admirable skills & experience.

Admittedly, it's possible that quite a few of my travelling companions were not executives, & that professionals in high-viz are as likely to wear light-weight "on site" vests that they carry in a brief case, but I had simply made an assumption that anyone getting on the train that early in high-viz was going to a factory to box chickens or sex light globes or some such quite menial & mindless task.

I hereby apologise for imposing both my presence & my prejudice on the hard-working, early-rising, high-viz accoutred train travellers who never gave me a second thought on the day, because I must have been effectively invisible.

"Not mine," said the Little Black Duck

I got onto an early train the other day - I had things to talk to my overseas team about, so I left the office early to work at home in the evening. Lucky me. By early, I mean the time that saves me more than a dollar because I'm travelling "off peak". Woohoo!

Anyway, I entered the carriage & thought "That's great - an empty bench!", but didn't realise why until I was on top of it. Someone had left a paper cup-like piece of rubbish sitting on the aisle side of the seat. I ignored it & sat on the window side.

So far, so good, but what is the etiquette around finding rubbish on a seat where you don't have to move it or even touch it to sit down? Once upon a time, shifting a newspaper was a common thing. I think I draw the line at rubbish on the seat if it isn't where I want to be. Rubbish under the seat can be discreetly shifted about. Cans & bottles can roll around under foot from one end of the carriage to the other for all I care.

About four stops later, someone entered the carriage & eyed off the seat beside me (without me looking up). When they arrived & looked down, there was the rubbish looking back at them. They transferred their gaze to the next object of scorn & gestured at said cast-off as if it was mine, or at least my responsibility. I tried to think of something witty, but the best I could come up with (glancing up from reading) was "I am unsure whether my friend there has a ticket."

Suffice to say, the chap had no idea what I was talking about, assumed I was being rude (which I suppose I was), & continued down the carriage (probably shaking his head). I turned a shade of red & studiously went back to my fiction.

What is the etiquette here? It's not my rubbish. I have avoided coming into contact with it (assuming any possession), & want to ignore it. It's an SEP (someone else's problem) in the truly Douglas Adams sense. Yet I felt a little guilty. I felt even more so when I got up to leave the train & hoped that no-one noticed that same piece of rubbish still sitting there - as it's unlikely that anyone still in the carriage had noticed who'd left it behind in the first place. Perhaps they could get a stab of guilt for letting said person escape without their ire.

I seem to recall that it was common for train employees to go through with bags to collect rubbish quite regularly. What happened to them? Those pre-peak trains are precisely where they should be - a quick sweep before the bigger crowds, yet I can't recall the last time I saw the grabbers. Cut-backs, I presume.

Now that I've spoken out, I'm going to feel even more guilty each time I simply sit there & do nothing.

Schroedinger's Lift

For all of those who've done high school physics, the concept of Schroedinger's Cat is a bizarre thought experiment that will haunt you for the rest of your days. In a nutshell, the cat, hidden away in a box that has been exposed to subatomic particles, may or may not be dead, & the state of the cat may be dictated or affected by the observation of the cat's state.
Yes, this may be a paradox.

That's exactly why travellers passing through Central station are not surprised to hear that the lift provided by the rail service has a state of existence almost entirely dependent on observation. Paradox comes for free beside the oxymoron of "Public Transport".

Said lift may also be akin to the Hogwart's "Room of Requirement" which can only be found if you are truly in need of it.

To quote the recorded announcement "If you have a pram or luggage, a lift is provided at the end of the platform, near the front of the train."

As you can see, this is a standard conditional statement, implying that if you don't have luggage, or indeed have two prams, then the lift will not be at the end of the platform. It may be somewhere else. The announcement is not clear on this point. It also may not be available in working order - it is simply provided in the decorative sense.

Perhaps, to continue the Harry Potter reference, I have been consistently arriving at platform 9 3/4, on which only those holding the equivalent of wizarding paraphernalia (in this case, a pram) can approach the lift without ramming their afore-said perambulator into a post.

If I might skip between my transport & language blogs, it can be seen that conditional statements are not only unnecessary under the circumstances, but downright confusing. It would have been much simpler to say "The lift IS at the end of the platform" without befuddling the morning-time brains of commuters with existentialist tosh.

That being said, platform announcements would become more honest & less tedious if they took the track of simplification to the point of no return: "The next train intended for platform 24 may be heading south soon"

Spread, Cross, or Curl

Everyone who travels on public transport is well aware of the "spreader" - the man whose knees are magnets of the same polarity & have to be as far apart as his legs will allow (independent of the space provided). This is the bane of bus travel, which is designed for two people to sit primly on a seat, rather than one to take up twice us much legroom as seat width.

However, I have come to the conclusion that, however bad this is, men are not the only kinds of weird space-hogs. I have found women who travel regularly on trains who try to contort themselves in such a way that they take up far more space than necessary, often imposing on others, & sometimes making it very difficult to "get around" them.

The first of the these is the "crosser". It seems that women's knees have opposite polarity. Admittedly, some men cross their legs on the train, but not that many compared to the number of women who try valiantly to squeeze one leg over the other in the cramped space, often dangling a foot out into the aisle to trip an unsuspecting passer-by. In the process of crossing, they half-turn in their seat & project a knee towards their seat-mates.
Note - on a crowded train, this usually only happens on the aisle-side, so, when one of those seat-mates attempts an exit, it becomes a major un-contortioning to get out.

The final example of strange behaviour in public is that of the "curler". This is someone for whom public transport is so terrifying that they have to go into the foetal position to cope with the stresses of not having to drive themselves. In this case, they leave a lot of floor-space unused - potentially a bonus, but instead of allowing someone the shoulder or elbow space to sit forward next to them, there is now no option but to either be pressed hard up against the curled form, or else be squeezed against the window (or into the aisle).

Curlers often sleep in this position (or simply pretend). Some will simply sit with their feet up on the seat like a bird on a perch, their wings wrapped around them protectively. Curlers can sometimes also grasp their belongings close to their chest - somewhat like a homeless person taking a nap.

The only other kind of space hog on the train that comes to mind is the precious bag. The precious bag must have its own seat. In fact, the precious bag gets quite grumpy if forced to move from its seat. I've even known a precious bag's companion to give up their own space so that the precious bag can be comfortable. Because the precious bag is not human, it's outside of the domain of this particular blog.

In-transit-ivity

"This train terminates. Please alight the train."

I thoroughly agree that all murderous modes of transport should be burned.

Who writes this stuff? I know I should put this in my language blog, but I was having my giggle on, & as a result of, the train, so I'm raging against the machinery that is "Sydney Trains" - until they have left-over budget to change their name again.

Arnold Schwarzenegger set the tone - a terminator is someone who kills people.
A train that terminates is not a good ting. Not only that, it doesn't die, it's just resting (like an ill parrot).
In some cases, the train isn't even really resting for very long - it turns around immediately.
The announcements at my station of a morning always say "The train arriving at platform one terminates. Please do not board this train." I do board it, because it really is the train I catch. Once the driver & guard do their little dance, this physical collection of metal on wheels "forms" the train service that goes back towards the city.
Trains that "terminate" at other stations may go off to the yards to have a longer rest, but there is nowhere else for them to go from my station - they have to go back the way they came.

Now for the second half. "Alight the train".
You can alight from a train or you can set a train alight.
Either is perfectly understandable, yet they choose to give a level of ambiguity that, in the context of an early evening passenger coming home, could easily be misconstrued.
From the point of view of a drunken teenager, it sounds more like an invitation (or a challenge).

It is no better, grammatically, to say "Please leave the train at the next station".
I know full well that I'm not going to take it with me, & I wouldn't know what to do if the train started following me home.
It would seem that the option is not mine.
I can take no active part in the relationship - the train is much bigger & stronger than me & will exert its will regardless.
In fact, its willfulness is such that, as mentioned before, it doesn't even want to be left at my station - it will sulk back to where it came from as soon as it realises that it has been left behind by all of its nice friendly passengers.

There is nothing I can do about this.
I'm sorry.
I've tried hanging about on the platform to engage the train in light conversation.
I even tried to play with the train once, but it took no interest in fetching sticks.
In fact, after a very short while, it simply ran away.
I had tried my best, but the train left first.

I hate to leave the blog without offering some solutions.
The train doesn't terminate, but "the service concludes", or else the journey ends.
There is nothing to stop someone forming a lasting relationship with the train as it makes another journey - & if you're tired, drunk, or just plain stupid, I'm sure this is an option you've taken advantage of.

Although I hate the term, the least confusion can be found in the word "de-train".
Then again, do you need to tell people both that the train has reached the end of its journey & that people should get off the train?
Is the latter superfluous?
Does it not limit one's options?

As an aside, new signs appeared at the steps & ramp of my station:

• "Please keep to the left"
• "Caution! Slippery when wet"

I got to thinking; although the first is good advice, it is either "second nature" or else is advice too easily ignored. 

Either way, having a sign does nothing. 

Nobody walks up to a set of stairs thinking "Which side should I walk on? I hope there's a sign to tell me!"

Useless.

The second sign, again is a nice little caution, but what's the alternative?

Do you know of any surface that gets less slippery when wet?

Therefore, again, are you supplying useful information to those who walk up to a ramp & wonder "Does this surface get slippery when wet? I hope someone can tell me! No sign! Now I'll never know!!"

Normal people know that surfaces get slippery when wet.

Abnormal people ignore signs.

Less than useless.

There is only one thing worse than these signs - to get radically off topic - the writing on the road that says "Look left" or "Look right".

There should be another sign that says "If you are reading this message written on the road, then you are probably going to be run over by a car - because you should not be looking down!"

Private Transport, Part 2

It's always possible that there's been a new directive within the railways, but I've had a few guards recently make announcements telling people to keep the vestibule clear & allow other people to get on. Although this sounds obvious to the seasoned commuter (like yours truly), it isn't so obvious to people from "elsewhere" - out of town & other countries. It's also not so obvious to children, who may have been brought up in a cotton-wool home where the child is the centre of the universe. This latter scenario distresses me somewhat.

Back to non-commuters. When you board private transport, you open a door, sit down, relax & get taken directly to where you need to go - unless you're the driver doing the taking, in which case I hope there's less relaxing. On public transport, going through the door is not the end of the story - you have to find a seat or at least get out of the doorway to allow others to come in after you. If you're not in the habit of doing so, then this might be a revelation!

At the other end of the attitude from the public transport newbie is the person who is so relaxed with their daily commute that they've forgotten how public the transport is - they sit on the steps if there are no other seats, fall asleep on their neighbour, or expand to fill all of the space left as the train empties. They are "at home" publicly.

There's a third class of people on public transport - staff.
I don't see them all that often - you get the odd ticket inspector every few weeks, police (mostly on stations), but that's it. However, the other day I jumped onto a train with four staff who may have been ticket inspectors, but they weren't doing any inspecting - they didn't have their equipment out.
What they did have, though, is attitude. They thought they were entitled to do as they pleased. By that I mean that they stood around in the vestibule, stopping me from getting in, then continued to stand around in the doorways. I thought it quite odd, but then realised that it's exactly in line with the whole private/public dichotomy.

They own the railways - they're private members. The trains belong to them. That kind of entitlement makes it private transport to them. They are the self-appointed lords of the manor, usually in the same vein as the officious clerks who screen their fellow plebeians for the aristocracy.

Self-appointed transport vigilantes are actually no different. Everyone is told "if you see something, say something", or words to that effect - take responsibility. However, this doesn't include escalating a situation unnecessarily.
One day, I heard a guard directly tell some "children" (without seeing them, I don't know how old) to stop mucking about in the vestibule (aren't cameras wonderful?). Sitting within my view, however, were some "young men" (who looked like children to me, but had facial hair) commenting how they'd happily "sort out" said miscreants if necessary.

Perhaps what is needed is transport segregation - a carriage full of vestibules for those who like to hang around & block doorways, a carriage with little compartments for those who like to feel as if they're on their own, a carriage with glass dividers where people could complain about other passengers without anyone else having to listen to them.

Private Transport

I travel on public transport daily, during peak hours, mostly.

It never ceases to amaze me how many people think that public transport is their private domain & you, as a fellow passenger, are impinging on their space when you get on the same carriage. I don't just mean the anti-social folk who immediately put their feet up, or leave rubbish behind as if no-one else matters, but those who notice you & treat you with disdain directly.

Let me give you a few examples.
I live at the end of the line. This may make for a long trip, but it usually means I get the pick of the seats. The best seats are the two singles seats at the back of a Waratah-style carriage (one behind the other). I don't like the one right at the back, because I find it too cramped, but the one just in front is perfect - my ideal seat.

I used to have a very good travelling relationship with a woman who would take that cramped seat by choice. Although we would often be the only ones in the upper area of the carriage, I don't think either of us thought it strange that we sat so close. That woman has moved on (or gone on a long holiday).

One morning, I arrived to find a different woman sitting in that cramped seat. I sat down in my accustomed seat in front of her, & heard her mumbles of frustration as she proceeded to get up & move to the other end of the carriage. She was still talking to herself about my apparent breach of etiquette after she was settled so far away. I can imagine that the complaints started up again within five stops when the train gets crowded enough for her to have had someone jamming their knees into hers.
Some people are never happy.

On that very day, I was catching a country train home that gets me the last hop - a ride of about two minutes. The train is only two carriages long, & there are rarely two people sitting together beyond my stop, as far as I can tell. However, people have come to expect that they will sit alone & don't take kindly to such interlopers as me taking up one of their three seats.

On this occasion, one person was taking up six seats because their large bag was filling the floor between benches to the point where the direction the seat faced couldn't be changed. This meant that there was a chap facing the wrong way on a three-seater of his own. As the train pulled out, I realised why he was sitting on the aisle side - his wife was on the other side of the aisle, facing the same way, filling another four seats with more of their luggage.

I can imagine an old-fashioned ticket inspector "Could you show me the tickets you bought for these packages?"

A total of three people filling thirteen seats in what was effectively peak hour. Admittedly, the only people standing were those, like me, with a two-minute journey ahead of them, but a little common sense & courtesy wouldn't go astray.

On another note of amusement/frustration ...

Every time there is a delay on a train, I hear "I shouldn't have to pay for this!" from someone in a tightly-packed peak-hour journey. One of these days, I will find the owner of the voice & ask them "How much would you be willing to pay to not have the occasional delay?" or else point out that this is exactly the service that they're paying for.