That Awkward Train Moment


You know the type. That person that sits next to you when the train is packed and when it starts to empty, they don’t move over and they invade your personal space.That person is me.

Being a regular on peak hour trains, I often know what it’s like to not get a seat. Eighty per cent of the time I am unable to bag myself a seat and not wanting to touch the germ infested poles, I lean against the wall (which is probably just as bad). When I do get a seat, it’s usually sandwiched between two exhausted, zombie-like suits or someone who you can tell does not catch the train often. So about two stops before mine, a lot of people start to get off the train and I am left sitting right next to one person. I never move over.

I never move over because I feel awkward and rude if I do, as if I’m saying ‘Ew, no I don’t want to sit next to you!’. And so I sit out the rest of the train ride sitting right next to a stranger giving others the impression that we are best friends and just had to sit next to each other. I also feel like I’ve got two stops to go, why bother? This person doesn’t have BO (most times) and I’ve made myself comfortable. You may want your own space but I get off in two stops and for the other 30 minutes, you didn’t seem to mind that I was practically sitting my handbag on your lap, because obviously it is not going to touch the train floor.

Yes, I get some weird looks. One day, I was seated between a girl with a gorgeous manicure and the most indie guy I have ever seen. I’m talking loafers with no socks, hemp shirt, manbag and the beginning of a pony tail. Indie was asleep when I sat next to him and slept all the way through until two minutes after Manicure and a shitload of other people had left the train. He woke up with me sitting right next to him. Right next to him. He was probably terrified that a frazzled looking blonde had snuggled up real close. Don’t worry sweetie, you’re not my type.

I’m also the awkward person who will get a seat the seat that faces the opposite direction at the end of the carriage and won’t switch when the train starts to empty. I feel like I’m saying, ‘I don’t want to look at you’, which I don’t but I don’t want to show it. Of course they all probably feel like I’m some sort of psycho plotting against them.

I may be the awkward weird on the train, but at least I’m not the one that falls over when the train stops. Thank you cheerleading for core strength and knowing when to squeeze my butt at the right time.

Why is this my life? No, seriously.

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