Results tagged “train”

I was late and had a train to catch. Because of the heavy rainstorm that night, by morning the subterranean walkway to the platform was flooded several centimeters high.

Nature was challenging me yet again with one of her creative obstacles.

In order not to miss the train and arrive at work on time, I had a difficult decision to make. My quick deductions narrowed down the choices to three possibilities:

• Turn around and go back up, take a longish detour and make a mad dash around to the opposite entrance to the train station which was still dry, taking five additional minutes.
• Take off my shoes, then my socks and roll up my pants, wading carefully though the water in my bare feet, which would take an extra minute.
• Take the dare, make a large leap and just run as fast as I could through the water hoping not to get too soaked, which would result in no delay at all.

Most of the older people had calmly positioned themselves to the side or were reclining on the stairs taking off shoes and socks, while the younger folks were making large leaps and just going for it. A couple people had turned around but were standing in mid-step, motionless with their backs to the water wondering if what they were doing was the right choice.

Being young at heart and not wanting to risk being late, I made two cautious steps backwards, ascending slightly, and not thinking I took the running leap.

This was risky business but invigorating at the same time. It reminded me of the good old days as a kid when running through puddles was so much fun. The great part is that while doing running through the water, you get to splash all of the carefully wading people and soak them anyway.

By the time I arrived in Amsterdam my feet were completely dry, but the adventure remains to this day fresh in my mind.

When the train stops running, it is no less than pure chaos which blocks me every which way I turn.

What normally takes around fifty minutes, became a grueling three hours plus this evening.

I had to get off at Bijlmer, go back to Duivendrecht, change trains at Schiphol and then transfer at Den Haag before I finally made it back to Gouda.

Although I did my best to relax and not get stressed about the delays, I've developed a pretty bad headache.

The good thing is that I felt thankful when I finally made it back home, and that my dinner tasted ten times better than normal.

Tomorrow is another day of traveling and coming back home (hopefully) in time.

Every minute and a half or thereabouts she received yet another text message. The notification beep of her mobile phone pierced the air. The high-pitched beep was so sharp and loud that it startled all those poor souls sitting next to her.

No one dared say anything, either they didn't notice, didn't care or were too polite to say something and risk a heated argument.

One wonders why folks crank the volume up so high like that. Why every incoming text message should be announced with such an aggravating peep seems strange to say the least.

Let's make it immediately known to everyone nearby that yes this young lady is so darned popular. She is sure receiving alot of text messages from one and another distant admirer. The public will go home and spread the word about the really popular girl in the train and it will be the talk of the town.

There I was observing this strange behavior from a distance. The next text message arrived right on schedule. She had the biggest smile on her face. When she looked up and saw that I too had noticed, she had to blush in purest satisfaction.

Now that I've been stuck sitting across from the notorious foot tapper guy and recognize his face for future reference, I know who not to sit next to again while in the train.

Earphones blaring music, shoulders bouncing and the whole way home both his overgrown feet tapping loudly right next to mine.

A few times he shifted somewhat which resulted in direct hits to my toes, my grumpy glance not phasing him one bit.

Seek comfort when possible and make it so when the situation is temporarily otherwise, if you know what I mean. Humankind has much to offer. Each new episode is a learning experience while it lasts, so make the best of it.

As an experienced train commuter chalking up a couple more thousand kilometers every month between my hometown of Gouda and my work in Amsterdam, I've pretty much perfected the art of nodding off while sitting erect.

Sometimes it happens without me even realizing it, for example while reading a book or just staring out the window. Sometimes I even feel it coming and resist or just let it happen.

The amazing thing is that although I nod off in a kind of semi-hypnotic imaginary dream world, I remain erect and do not fall over. The bumps and jerking motions shift my body slightly to the left and to the right, but I never end up in the lap of the passenger across from me nor on the shoulder of the person next to me.

On occasion I dream of eating and wake up with my mouth open and my jaws biting up and down. Or if it is hot and I'm drinking a refreshing ice-cold substance.

I've trained my mind to sleep but to be alert at the same time. I do not know exactly how this mechanism works, it is like clockwork. Although the train stops along the way, I do not wake up or at least I believe that I am not awake until just the right moment: when the conductor announces Station Gouda! And when this announcement is not made or the public announcement system has short-circuited? I still wake up.

When the train is overly crowded, like it was again this morning, I'm always relieved when I find an unoccupied seat over there.

I try to squeeze myself ever so politely next to the kind fellow passenger without disrupting things too much.

What really bothers me are those few uncaring folks who do not move a single iota to the left nor to the right in order to give you some extra wiggle room.

Their left leg remains extended outward with the bony knee jabbing your outer calf, and a misplaced elbow pokes into your side.

Not even a subtle cough or poking back with your shoulder seems to help, in fact the immovable form becomes even more resistant to your unwanted presence.

I am sitting in the train on my way to work reading the book "The Curious Incident" by Mark Haddon.

When I finish the next chapter I look up and gaze out of the window reviewing in my mind all the stuff I just read.

Over to my left sitting next to the window, I see a younger well-dressed man who is also reading a book. Realizing unconsciously that some other stranger is gazing in his direction, he stops reading a looks back at me.

That is when I avert my glance, but just ever so slightly so that out of curiosity I can have a peek at the book he is reading. I'm always really curious what kind of books, magazines or whatever the other fellow passengers are reading.

Then to my surprise I discover that he is reading the very same book I am. It's a slightly larger edition than the copy I'm holding in my hand, but it is nonetheless the identical book. It also looks like he has read the same amount that I have, about three eighths of the book.

I wonder what the odds are that I am sitting across from someone who is reading the very same book that I am. The odds of winning the lottery are probably much better, so this is a unique moment that I should appreciate as long as possible.

It had been a pretty busy day at work, so sitting in the train I gave a quick yawned and stretched my arms in the air and back of me.

That's when I felt something unusual, something scratchy and furry at the same time. Confused, I felt it with my fingers and rubbed the scratchy mass between my thumb and forefinger.

What is that?!

When I turned my head to the left and craned my neck backwards to see what this eerie object might be, my two eyes met the two eyes of the passenger sitting behind me.

We were sitting back to back and that furry object happened to be his bushy hair at the back of his head.

An uncomfortable grin and a quick nod were my non-verbal apologies, and when he nodded back at me with an equally slight grin I felt better.

What an idiot I'd been.