Travelling without a Guide

When I rushed onto the train yesterday afternoon, there was a feeling of "not quite school children" that I couldn't put my finger on. There wasn't a sea of uniforms, so it took me a while to work out that, from my seat, I was surrounded by a group of children & teens who belonged to a group & may well have been foreign. It's always hard to tell in Sydney, but I think they were either exchange students or else a school group on a tour. Ironically, their tour leader was a Pom.

The reason the feeling was "not quite school children" is that they weren't competing with each other. They weren't shouting, whinging, swearing, hitting each other, running up & down the carriage or in any way causing havoc. Admittedly, at one point, they were sharing music - to the point where one of them had a headphone hub that was dangling in the middle of the aisle, where three people (one in front & one behind me & one on the opposite side of the aisle) shared music. One of them was any asleep.

For all intents & purposes, they were school children, but they acted as if they were under control. I worked out who their leader was only by the fact that they occasionally asked him if he wanted to listen to something. There was also a leader who had come with them, but she didn't make her appearance felt until they got off the train - she was the last to leave, quickly checking seats for possessions left behind.

The interesting thing was the languidness with which they gathered their things to leave the train. The local (Pom) leader simply told them we were approaching the stop, & he would meet them at the door. When the train pulled in, many of them were still packing up, which is where their own leader started pushing them. The Pom stood outside, making sure that the guard understood that his group was large & slow, & he looked up at me through the train window with a bemused & apologetic look on his face.

As we pulled away from the platform, the guard made the announcement "For those who don't have a tour guide with them, the train will terminate at the next station - all out, all change."

Political Uncertainty

In these troubled times politically, it's no surprise that people no longer know which side of a set of stairs to walk up or down. There are those who used to be strident adherents of the left or right who are drifting into the middle & finding that they have, unbeknownst to themselves, crossed the line into what was once foreign territory.
However reasonable that is within the comfort of a secret ballot, when we're talking about commuters on a railway platform, that is simply not on.

I was recently restricted to using a stick (& I resisted the urge to call it a cane, due to connotations associated therewith) due to a painful foot.
Brandishing this weapon, which is cumbersome at best, but downright dangerous to others when negotiating ticket turnstiles & the like (which are intended for the fast moving able-bodied), I approached my usual commuting haunts with some degree of trepidation & also, if I may be so bold, just a hint of glee.

As I approached the bottom of the stairs leading up to my regular platform, an unruly swarm of hurrying commuters - most destined to connect with another train on another platform, it appeared - was pressing a more demure & lonely passenger back from her attempt at the stairs.
I picked my spot in the melee & charged unheeding towards the first step, wielding my stick as someone not afraid to impart wisdom to anyone getting close enough. After a few laborious strides through the stream, out of sheer frustration, I called out "Heavens to Murgatroyd, people! Pick a side!" & hacked more aggressively as I ploughed on to my left. When I reached the top, I turned back to make sure that my fellow trout had taken advantage of the chaos I created.
"So, how many of them do you think I got?" & we shared a grin of triumph.

But, this is me - a usually able-bodied, reasonably self-reliant male of goodly proportion, a hearty voice, & a death wish (& now a weapon).
How on earth is the proverbial little old lady going to achieve such direct access to the platform - especially if she has to start the steps on the left to use the hand rail? What about the pregnant mother with a pram as well? Are such passengers expected to simply wait it out & hope for the best?

Are such second-class citizens to be ignored, along with good manners & common sense?

Public transport is a privilege, not a right. We are lucky to have it, & we should treat it as if it belongs to everyone else, not as if it belongs to us.