Just observing the fella’s today
What a noisy, wriggly bunch they are.
On my immediate right is an older man with a rather pronounced sniff. This is accentuated with the back of his hand to either wipe away excessive snot or to make the noise more annoying. I haven’t figured that out just yet. He then wipes the back of his hand on the leg of his trousers. He has left his tissues on the dresser at home with his manners. Sniffer is also enjoying drinking a can of Coke Zero. The whole bloody train can hear him slurping the coke down his gullet. Then there is the big (trying to be silent but not quite making it) burp and the big coke infused sigh of relief at releasing all that pressure.
Across the isle are two Blokes sitting in a two seater. Both are over 6 feet tall and built like the proverbial brick outhouse. Very squishy. Both are reading the SMH. One is a folder, the other is in the open heart surgery pose. Folder is by the window and is so miffed about his space being invaded that he is tsking and wriggling and elbowing Open Heart in the ribs. I don’t think either of them are reading their paper they are locked in a power struggle for air space.
In front and to the right is a bloke who has a mate on the train in a seat about 5 seats back. They both got on together, chatting away, one sat in front of me the other sat up the back. There was plenty of room for them to sit in the same seat but I think they both wanted to read their papers and didn’t want to sit together, rather weird. Anyway, this bloke is reading the Tele propped up on the back of the seat in front of him. Sports pages of course. Every page turn makes the paper slap onto the back of the seat and makes the girl’s hair in that seat move quite a lot. She keeps turning around and fixing him with a filthy look but he thinks its hilarious. His mate up the back is texting him and egging him on, I can hear him laughing and giggling every time paper slapper texts back.
Directly in front of me is a man in his mid 40’s, balding, bad posture, a little pudgy. At first look he appears to be an office worker, suit, tie, neat hair etc. on closer inspection however one notices that the suit is very crushed and ill made of some kind of gross scratchy looking material. He does have a shirt and tie on but the shirt is a polo shirt and the tie isn’t matching and is a bit stained. He had a hair cut recently but his hair is really greasy (could be product but it just don’t look right) and the back of his neck is covered in a really bad razor burn. He also appears to have an itch in a very private place that requires some pretty intensive attention. There is something disturbing about someone who can scratch a personal spot in public with no reservations. He is grabing the offending article in his pointer finger and thumb and is squeezing and ripping at himself like a man posessed. Dont get me wrong here, this isn't pervert type behavour. (I dont think)
A couple of seats up ahead is a young man with a pimple picking mission. So far he is bleeding profusely from several large craters on his neck and chin. One pimple has bled onto his collar and his handkerchief is covered in blood. If he starts to pass out I’ll use ‘tinea testicles’ tie as a tourniquet around his neck, that should stop the bleeding nicely. The girl sitting opposite him is turning green, but then she can see a hell of a lot more than I can.
Nearby another bloke has commandeered a whole 3 seater for his computer and accessories. I can hear the annoying blips and beeps of a computer game emanating from his laptop. He refuses to move anything so there are people standing around him seething, watching him play his game. Funny how no one will say anything to him, and even funnier is how he is (supposedly) oblivious to his selfishness. I wonder if his computer gear has a ticket.
Somewhere behind me is a cougher. Sounds like he has a bad cold or emphysema. Doesn’t come close to ‘Mr Coffin’ but its very phlegmy and it does make your toes curl. Doesn’t cover his mouth, of course. Someone registers disgust every time he coughs by saying ewwwww, really loudly.
So, all this noise and mucking up, all on one carriage. A cacophony of male bad manners.
I’m sure the girls will let me down in the near future but today it’s the boys.
By now I’m yelling in my head…..get a tissue you jerk, by the time you get to work you will look like you have been attacked by a gang of snails you’ll have so much snot all over you. Stop slurping your drink like some pig in a trough and I’ll slap you stupid the next time you burp and send all those coke fumes over me.
Stand up and belt that bastard over the head with your folded paper!! His legs must be open at a 180 degree angle. Push his legs shut and elbow his arms out of your way.
Move over and shut your legs you inconsiderate turd. If your testicles are that big and you can’t sit with your legs together then maybe there is something wrong with them. Or are they swollen because someone smashed them for you for being such a jerk?
Hey moron, stop hitting that girl. If you like her try talking to her, all you are doing now is paving the way for a size 8 to be inserted violently into an orifice
Stop egging your mate on, you goon. Act your age not your shoe size and you sound like a drunken baboon with that laugh.
If you pick one more pimple mate, your face will look like you were thrown through your windscreen on the way to work. God knows how clean your hands are and I’m pretty sure gangrene isn’t just for extremities. You are going to look like a burns victim when that lot heals.
Oh gross, you really need to go and see about that itching you grub, the way you are digging around in there that would have to be fungal. I hope you wash your hands before you meet and greet anyone. Obviously your mother didn’t belt you around the lug hole for scratching your bits in public, if I wasn’t afraid of catching something I’d do it for her. And iron your clothes you look like a derro
Who cares if you are up to level 2003 in dungeons and dragons. Move your crap and let people sit down you inconsiderate tosser. And turn off the sound, who wants to listen to that garbage. I don’t want to hear your computer have a fit every time you make a kill or get points.
Cover your mouth, take some cough mixture and do us all a favour and walk to work, you are such a creep. How dare you cough and splutter all over people. It’s not like we can all get away from you. I’m sure the lady in front of you wishes she could just go home and wash her hair thanks to you. What on earth makes you think that we all want to share your projectile body fluids.
Ahhhhhhhhhh that feels better…..
Friday 22 June 2007
Friday 8 June 2007
Snorer
Its raining, it’s pouring
The man in the seat in front of me is snoring.
Actually, I reckon this fella has some major problems. For one thing this has got to be the loudest snore I have ever heard. As he drops off to sleep his mouth opens and his soft pallet drops back against his throat and voila!
He is extremely rotund, taking up two seats, he is so huge that his head doesn’t move it just sits on his neck like a golf ball on a tee. Everyone is staring and laughing at him and he is oblivious to it all.
It’s cold and windy and raining very heavily outside, people are getting on the train wet and cranky. Water is running down the stairs into the main part of the carriage as they leave their umbrellas to drain making the floor slippery. Most see a seat but realize as they get close that
a) They can’t wake him up and
b) They wouldn’t fit there anyway and
c) They couldn’t stand to sit there as they would probably have severe hearing loss by the end of their journey
The snoring is so loud. Long drawn out breaths in and out and the snore is on both the inward and outward breaths. Listening to it actually makes you a bit breathless as you cant help trying to keep up with it yourself. Incredible
Snnnnnnnnnnnork then 22 seconds silence snnnnnnnnnnneek, snnnnnnnnnnnork 22 seconds silence snnnnnnnnnnneek then a choking sound, hhhhack a swallow, gulp, 22 seconds silence– snnnnnnnnnnnork 22 seconds silence snnnnnnnnnnneek hhhack, gulp, 22 seconds etc..
I look over the top at his wedding finger. Surely not!!! No, I’m right, he is single there’s no ring. Imagine!!
Whoa, extra loud hhhaack there, he woke himself up.
Heeeeeeeeeeeee
I daren’t turn up my MP3 as I might send my eardrums through into my brain.
This has to stop. I don’t want to move, it’s cold and wet and I’m comfortable and I don’t want to stand up for the remainder of my trip.
So one annoyance deserves another I feel.
Whoops, my foot slams into the back of the seat. I can’t control it. There it goes again. Hhhhhhhhhhaaaack hark yon snorer wakes. I grab yesterdays newspaper from my bag (forgot to take it out last night thank goodness) every time he starts to drop off I give him the old herald snap right in the back of the head. So now it sounds like this….
Snnnnnnnnnnnork 22 snnnnnnnnnneek hhhhhack gulp SSSSSSSSSSMACK snort blink blink (that’s his eyes refocusing)
If I can keep this up for about 15 minutes we’ll be pulling into his station, he’ll get off and we’ll all get some peace. The lady next to me joins in with her Woman’s Weekly and clears her throat really loudly.
What a team. We should be lauded in the isles. We share a conspiritorial smile
Poor Mr Bellows never got a chance to sleep a wink after that.
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha (read maniacal laugh)
The man in the seat in front of me is snoring.
Actually, I reckon this fella has some major problems. For one thing this has got to be the loudest snore I have ever heard. As he drops off to sleep his mouth opens and his soft pallet drops back against his throat and voila!
He is extremely rotund, taking up two seats, he is so huge that his head doesn’t move it just sits on his neck like a golf ball on a tee. Everyone is staring and laughing at him and he is oblivious to it all.
It’s cold and windy and raining very heavily outside, people are getting on the train wet and cranky. Water is running down the stairs into the main part of the carriage as they leave their umbrellas to drain making the floor slippery. Most see a seat but realize as they get close that
a) They can’t wake him up and
b) They wouldn’t fit there anyway and
c) They couldn’t stand to sit there as they would probably have severe hearing loss by the end of their journey
The snoring is so loud. Long drawn out breaths in and out and the snore is on both the inward and outward breaths. Listening to it actually makes you a bit breathless as you cant help trying to keep up with it yourself. Incredible
Snnnnnnnnnnnork then 22 seconds silence snnnnnnnnnnneek, snnnnnnnnnnnork 22 seconds silence snnnnnnnnnnneek then a choking sound, hhhhack a swallow, gulp, 22 seconds silence– snnnnnnnnnnnork 22 seconds silence snnnnnnnnnnneek hhhack, gulp, 22 seconds etc..
I look over the top at his wedding finger. Surely not!!! No, I’m right, he is single there’s no ring. Imagine!!
Whoa, extra loud hhhaack there, he woke himself up.
Heeeeeeeeeeeee
I daren’t turn up my MP3 as I might send my eardrums through into my brain.
This has to stop. I don’t want to move, it’s cold and wet and I’m comfortable and I don’t want to stand up for the remainder of my trip.
So one annoyance deserves another I feel.
Whoops, my foot slams into the back of the seat. I can’t control it. There it goes again. Hhhhhhhhhhaaaack hark yon snorer wakes. I grab yesterdays newspaper from my bag (forgot to take it out last night thank goodness) every time he starts to drop off I give him the old herald snap right in the back of the head. So now it sounds like this….
Snnnnnnnnnnnork 22 snnnnnnnnnneek hhhhhack gulp SSSSSSSSSSMACK snort blink blink (that’s his eyes refocusing)
If I can keep this up for about 15 minutes we’ll be pulling into his station, he’ll get off and we’ll all get some peace. The lady next to me joins in with her Woman’s Weekly and clears her throat really loudly.
What a team. We should be lauded in the isles. We share a conspiritorial smile
Poor Mr Bellows never got a chance to sleep a wink after that.
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha (read maniacal laugh)
A study of the mating rituals of the acne studed, binge drinking chain smoking pre pubescent
3 boys, 3 girls, angel faces, all seated in the vestibule area facing each other. Boys on one side and girls on the other.
I am reminded a bit of the Virginia Reel here. One boy visually targets a girl on the other side of the train, he starts to wrestle with the boy next to him making sure that the girl he likes is watching, then wrenching free from his mate he stands, walks to the centre and turns side on so that he can watch both parties. The girl giggles and cops a few elbows from her friend. She looks out the window nonchalantly then slowly slides her bum off the seat, slinks over near the boy and stands facing the opposite way to him, never taking her eyes off the scenery out of the window of the train. He offers a piece of Extra chewing gum with (he thinks) a manly demeanour, she takes it and (she thinks) seductively unwraps it and puts it her mouth. Both turn and face their respective friends, cover their mouths, bend at the waist and splutter (one supposes in mirth) before returning to their seats.
These kids are probably about 13 and in drab school uniforms so you would think it would hamper their mating ritual somewhat but it doesn’t.
The boys are in maroon uniforms, all have a hairstyle that looks like it took lots of primping in front of the mirror with wax or gel to make it stand up like they had just put their finger in an electric socket. All three have tri-coloured streaks in their hair and pretend side burns. (gotta wait til they get some hormones happening for the real McCoy)
They have a silver chain around their necks that looks like it came off the local car park gates and leather wrist bands with buckles and complicated looking straps. A bit like the gladiators used to wear. Unfortunately none have the accompanying muscle bound bodies to set off the chain and the wrist band.
The lack of bright plumage is more than compensated for with the colourful language emanating from their little angelic mouths. All conversation is bellowed at 50 decibels louder than a bingo caller so that any prospective babes in the neighbouring carriages will know that there is talent in this carriage. The swearing and bragging is obviously part of a complex verbal foreplay that has the sole aim to impress and excite the girls and make the boys feel really tough and big and masculine.
The girls, instead of being affronted, giggle at the ef word and hide their faces in pretend shock at the c word and exclaim in all the right places. Keep in mind here that not one of them has made eye contact and nor have they spoken directly to each other.
Most of the boys chatter is about how they, single handed, saved the rugby game on Saturday by scoring 4 field length tries and kicking 8 goals or how they are smoking up to ½ a pack of Horizons a day and only for the fact that they have to go to school for 7 hours of the day they would be smoking a full pack or how legless they were on Friday night and how hung over they were on Saturday when they saved the day on the rugby field or, the best one, how good a French kisser they are because the last 16 girls that they kissed told everyone that they were tongue gymnists. Ho hum.
Every sentence is punctuated with several hundred swear words so that the actual context of what they are saying is lost.
The girls, in navy blue uniforms, have meticulously straightened hair also with the tri colour streaks and they have it tied back with very glitzy hair clips. They have shiny wet glossed lips that are in constantly smacking together as they chew their gum (with their mouths open of course). As they chew they tap in time with their false fingernails on the metal hand rails. This entrances the boys so much that they lose the thread of their boasting. All three girls flick their hair constantly, rearrange their colourful scarves, cross and uncross their legs and giggle and squirm and whisper to each other non stop. (boys get louder in order to cover their lost threads)
Now the boys move into the mating dance. We start with lots of elbowing and slapping each other over the back of the head, then all three start pushing and shoving each other as a kind of chant begins…’you do it’ ‘you do it’ ‘you do it’.
The whole thing is quite energetic and comes to a climax when one boy is forced off the seat onto the floor and is deemed to be the loser. He is then expected to approach the girls and ask the all important question……’what school you from’?
He then launches himself backwards into his seat and the relative safety of his mates and their rather sharp elbows as the girls giggle and scream with mirth.
There is quite a bit of colour now, he is red faced, possibly from his exertions but more likely from embarrassment.
The boys wait – there is a reciprocal dance starting on the girls side of the carriage. They huddle up, hands and nails moving to the rhythm of the gum chewing and the hair flicking. The volume of the giggling increases, one girl sticks her head out of the scrum, takes the chewing gum out of her mouth and says….’who wants to know’?
All six sit back in satisfaction, they have made contact, words have been exchanged and eyes have met. This is the start of great things.
The next 10 minutes are quiet as they all reflect on the momentousness of the moment.
Stay tuned…..same time. Same station
I am reminded a bit of the Virginia Reel here. One boy visually targets a girl on the other side of the train, he starts to wrestle with the boy next to him making sure that the girl he likes is watching, then wrenching free from his mate he stands, walks to the centre and turns side on so that he can watch both parties. The girl giggles and cops a few elbows from her friend. She looks out the window nonchalantly then slowly slides her bum off the seat, slinks over near the boy and stands facing the opposite way to him, never taking her eyes off the scenery out of the window of the train. He offers a piece of Extra chewing gum with (he thinks) a manly demeanour, she takes it and (she thinks) seductively unwraps it and puts it her mouth. Both turn and face their respective friends, cover their mouths, bend at the waist and splutter (one supposes in mirth) before returning to their seats.
These kids are probably about 13 and in drab school uniforms so you would think it would hamper their mating ritual somewhat but it doesn’t.
The boys are in maroon uniforms, all have a hairstyle that looks like it took lots of primping in front of the mirror with wax or gel to make it stand up like they had just put their finger in an electric socket. All three have tri-coloured streaks in their hair and pretend side burns. (gotta wait til they get some hormones happening for the real McCoy)
They have a silver chain around their necks that looks like it came off the local car park gates and leather wrist bands with buckles and complicated looking straps. A bit like the gladiators used to wear. Unfortunately none have the accompanying muscle bound bodies to set off the chain and the wrist band.
The lack of bright plumage is more than compensated for with the colourful language emanating from their little angelic mouths. All conversation is bellowed at 50 decibels louder than a bingo caller so that any prospective babes in the neighbouring carriages will know that there is talent in this carriage. The swearing and bragging is obviously part of a complex verbal foreplay that has the sole aim to impress and excite the girls and make the boys feel really tough and big and masculine.
The girls, instead of being affronted, giggle at the ef word and hide their faces in pretend shock at the c word and exclaim in all the right places. Keep in mind here that not one of them has made eye contact and nor have they spoken directly to each other.
Most of the boys chatter is about how they, single handed, saved the rugby game on Saturday by scoring 4 field length tries and kicking 8 goals or how they are smoking up to ½ a pack of Horizons a day and only for the fact that they have to go to school for 7 hours of the day they would be smoking a full pack or how legless they were on Friday night and how hung over they were on Saturday when they saved the day on the rugby field or, the best one, how good a French kisser they are because the last 16 girls that they kissed told everyone that they were tongue gymnists. Ho hum.
Every sentence is punctuated with several hundred swear words so that the actual context of what they are saying is lost.
The girls, in navy blue uniforms, have meticulously straightened hair also with the tri colour streaks and they have it tied back with very glitzy hair clips. They have shiny wet glossed lips that are in constantly smacking together as they chew their gum (with their mouths open of course). As they chew they tap in time with their false fingernails on the metal hand rails. This entrances the boys so much that they lose the thread of their boasting. All three girls flick their hair constantly, rearrange their colourful scarves, cross and uncross their legs and giggle and squirm and whisper to each other non stop. (boys get louder in order to cover their lost threads)
Now the boys move into the mating dance. We start with lots of elbowing and slapping each other over the back of the head, then all three start pushing and shoving each other as a kind of chant begins…’you do it’ ‘you do it’ ‘you do it’.
The whole thing is quite energetic and comes to a climax when one boy is forced off the seat onto the floor and is deemed to be the loser. He is then expected to approach the girls and ask the all important question……’what school you from’?
He then launches himself backwards into his seat and the relative safety of his mates and their rather sharp elbows as the girls giggle and scream with mirth.
There is quite a bit of colour now, he is red faced, possibly from his exertions but more likely from embarrassment.
The boys wait – there is a reciprocal dance starting on the girls side of the carriage. They huddle up, hands and nails moving to the rhythm of the gum chewing and the hair flicking. The volume of the giggling increases, one girl sticks her head out of the scrum, takes the chewing gum out of her mouth and says….’who wants to know’?
All six sit back in satisfaction, they have made contact, words have been exchanged and eyes have met. This is the start of great things.
The next 10 minutes are quiet as they all reflect on the momentousness of the moment.
Stay tuned…..same time. Same station
Wednesday 6 June 2007
Charity begins on the morning train
When is collecting for charity illegal? Surely it must be wrong to try to solicit money on public transport.
This morning we had two young collectors all suited up in their red cross track suits trying to get commuters to sign up for direct debit payments to their cause.
In Martin Place in the 7 blocks from Barrack Street to Macquarie Street I often have to avoid these pond scum as I walk to and fro. They are mostly backpackers making a quick buck so that they can keep travelling but I'm offended by the fact that they are being paid to collect for various charities. I give to 3 charities regularly. The creeps in the street don't know this of course (dont worry I have thought about wearing a sign) but they should take no for an answer. We are harrassed and chased and cajoled as we walk along and it is really annoying. I feel that if the charities have to pay these people then it's less money going to whoever needs it. The marketing strategies are quite intense too. You see them every morning in a little huddle...red cross, cancer research, sids, greenpeace etc all with uniforms on (another expense) getting instruction from their 'group leader' being given their quota for the day and being given lessons on how to entrap people who are just walking in the street trying to get to and from work.
I absolutely hate being approached by one of these insincere little twerps with their "HI" "HOW IS THIS LOVELY LADY TODAY?" They open their arms out wide (all the better to catch you with) smile this big, white, even toothed smile (all the better to talk you to death with) and look hurt if you ignore them or tell them to P*** off. Worse, they want you to sign up to have funds directly debited out of your account each month. Yeah like that's going to happen.
Soooooo imagine my annoyance at being confronted on my way to work on my favourite mode of transport. The worst part is that they are counting on you being too embarrassed to be rude to them. I could hear them coming down the isle of the train asking people if they were having a nice day and wouldn't it make them feel nicer if they signed up for a lifetime of being harrassed by money grubbing, feel nothing management companies that would sell their own mother to a Lebonese brothel if it would make them a dollar.
My only defence, I decided, was to be totally and unequivically filthily rude.
I looked up at my annoyer as she was speaking to me, I said nothing, I just stared at her with all the anger and frustration at her interuption showing on my face and kept staring at her until she faltered in her spiel and decided that it was not a good idea to keep talking.
I will give her 10 points for tenacity, she moved on to the next person without really skipping a beat.
A phone call to the charity involved a lot of 'holding' and no satisfaction at all. I had some goober telling me that it was not their policy to have people harass others at all let alone on public transport and that we should report any behaviour like that to someone who cares.
Couldn't give me a number to call of course.
Oh well I guess it is just another colourful thread in the rich tapestry of life. (retch)
This morning we had two young collectors all suited up in their red cross track suits trying to get commuters to sign up for direct debit payments to their cause.
In Martin Place in the 7 blocks from Barrack Street to Macquarie Street I often have to avoid these pond scum as I walk to and fro. They are mostly backpackers making a quick buck so that they can keep travelling but I'm offended by the fact that they are being paid to collect for various charities. I give to 3 charities regularly. The creeps in the street don't know this of course (dont worry I have thought about wearing a sign) but they should take no for an answer. We are harrassed and chased and cajoled as we walk along and it is really annoying. I feel that if the charities have to pay these people then it's less money going to whoever needs it. The marketing strategies are quite intense too. You see them every morning in a little huddle...red cross, cancer research, sids, greenpeace etc all with uniforms on (another expense) getting instruction from their 'group leader' being given their quota for the day and being given lessons on how to entrap people who are just walking in the street trying to get to and from work.
I absolutely hate being approached by one of these insincere little twerps with their "HI" "HOW IS THIS LOVELY LADY TODAY?" They open their arms out wide (all the better to catch you with) smile this big, white, even toothed smile (all the better to talk you to death with) and look hurt if you ignore them or tell them to P*** off. Worse, they want you to sign up to have funds directly debited out of your account each month. Yeah like that's going to happen.
Soooooo imagine my annoyance at being confronted on my way to work on my favourite mode of transport. The worst part is that they are counting on you being too embarrassed to be rude to them. I could hear them coming down the isle of the train asking people if they were having a nice day and wouldn't it make them feel nicer if they signed up for a lifetime of being harrassed by money grubbing, feel nothing management companies that would sell their own mother to a Lebonese brothel if it would make them a dollar.
My only defence, I decided, was to be totally and unequivically filthily rude.
I looked up at my annoyer as she was speaking to me, I said nothing, I just stared at her with all the anger and frustration at her interuption showing on my face and kept staring at her until she faltered in her spiel and decided that it was not a good idea to keep talking.
I will give her 10 points for tenacity, she moved on to the next person without really skipping a beat.
A phone call to the charity involved a lot of 'holding' and no satisfaction at all. I had some goober telling me that it was not their policy to have people harass others at all let alone on public transport and that we should report any behaviour like that to someone who cares.
Couldn't give me a number to call of course.
Oh well I guess it is just another colourful thread in the rich tapestry of life. (retch)
Young love
Can you think of anything funnier than this.
In one of my previous entries I mentioned Halitosis Boy with the breath that would sink a battleship.
His latest victims were a young couple who only had eyes and lips for each other.
They were lip locked on a three seater, bodies pressed close, limbs entwined when Hally Boy saw the isle seat and threw his considerable weight backwards into it. The young loves were torn apart violently as the air in the seat was displaced by this massive force. They looked at their interrupter with distain and slowly turned their gaze back to each other, smiled slowly, puckered up and resumed 'pashing'.
Now as most of you devoties of the pash will know, there aint no breathing through your mouth. It's all nasal. Can you imagine how bad it would be to be in the warm snuggly smooching place with your beloved and cop a whiff of 'ol garbo breath. The bile rises in my throat just thinking of it. The girl broke first, she looked at the soles of her shoes then made her boyfriend check his. Then looked over the back of the seat to see if there was something on the floor, checked in front, really checked out her boyfriend by sniffing his hair and his shoulder....heeeeeeeee...
I could see some of my fellow travellers (fellow former victims) watching in amusement as the girl realised that it was coming from Hally Boy. The boyfriend turned his head to look just as the girl said "its coming from him" and copped it full in the face as the gates of hell opened and HB yawned.
A lady a few seats down lost it and started laughing. I was smiling like the village idiot and had to smother a chuckle as Hally Boy started to settle into a big long open mouthed sleep.
I guess one shouldn't laugh at others misfortunes, I certainly suffered when I sat next to him so I should be more sympathetic. Ah stuff it.
I'm sure that one day the young lovers will sit back a few seats and watch with glee as another poor sod is tortured by the slow suffocation that is the breath of Hally Boy.
In one of my previous entries I mentioned Halitosis Boy with the breath that would sink a battleship.
His latest victims were a young couple who only had eyes and lips for each other.
They were lip locked on a three seater, bodies pressed close, limbs entwined when Hally Boy saw the isle seat and threw his considerable weight backwards into it. The young loves were torn apart violently as the air in the seat was displaced by this massive force. They looked at their interrupter with distain and slowly turned their gaze back to each other, smiled slowly, puckered up and resumed 'pashing'.
Now as most of you devoties of the pash will know, there aint no breathing through your mouth. It's all nasal. Can you imagine how bad it would be to be in the warm snuggly smooching place with your beloved and cop a whiff of 'ol garbo breath. The bile rises in my throat just thinking of it. The girl broke first, she looked at the soles of her shoes then made her boyfriend check his. Then looked over the back of the seat to see if there was something on the floor, checked in front, really checked out her boyfriend by sniffing his hair and his shoulder....heeeeeeeee...
I could see some of my fellow travellers (fellow former victims) watching in amusement as the girl realised that it was coming from Hally Boy. The boyfriend turned his head to look just as the girl said "its coming from him" and copped it full in the face as the gates of hell opened and HB yawned.
A lady a few seats down lost it and started laughing. I was smiling like the village idiot and had to smother a chuckle as Hally Boy started to settle into a big long open mouthed sleep.
I guess one shouldn't laugh at others misfortunes, I certainly suffered when I sat next to him so I should be more sympathetic. Ah stuff it.
I'm sure that one day the young lovers will sit back a few seats and watch with glee as another poor sod is tortured by the slow suffocation that is the breath of Hally Boy.
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me...
On the train yesterday evening.
We had been informed just before getting on the train that all trains were late and arriving out of timetable order (just the thing to get you in a good mood for the evening). Consequently the platform was crowded with cranky tired people who just wanted to get home. I managed to get a seat (whew) in the vestibule area and because the Tangarra is especially geared for peak hour in Tokyo I was quite squished up in the corner. The angle I was sitting at gave me a front row seat so to speak, to a spectacle that was occuring in between the carriages.
For those who don't catch trains in Sydney (oh you are so fortunate) the area I'm talking about is roughly 2 metres square, the floor is a couple of round steel plates, one over the other that grind together and cover the coupling joining the carriages. The space is totally enclosed and has double glass sliding doors leading into each carriage.
Two men and a woman were sitting on the steel plates, pretending that they were on a roller coaster or a surf board perhaps, screaming with laughter, falling over each other and generally having a good time. At first it was moderately funny, in the way that it's fun to watch people laughing and having fun, then it became a bit scary as they were puting their hands next to the plates and playing 'chicken' as the floor moved. Of course they were drunk, there were two bottles of spirits that they were drinking from and of course someone got hurt. One of the men got his sleeve caught in the floor as it moved, then it ripped his shirt across the back and he started screaming that his hand was caught. Passengers who were close to him tried to open the doors to get in there to help him but the idiots had locked the door somehow and we couldn't get in.
He managed to free himself and stood up to show us all that he was ok and didn't need help. One couldn't help but notice that he had soiled himself (in fright no doubt) and wet himself.. Not to be outdone his friend decided that he needed to relieve himself, so he did, right there. Because the train was moving quite fast and he was pretty drunk he fell, right into his puddle and then slid over to his friend and into the mess he had left on the floor. At that point I was hoping that his appendage would get caught in the floor. Unfortunately that didn't happen. The woman in the mean time was hooking into the left over grog.
We passengers had a quick vote and decided that we would keep that part of the train locked until we could get out, so the three of them had to stay in there. Last I saw of them they were sitting on the floor smoking and finishing off their bottles and singing and laughing. Obviously the simpler things in life are often the best
Go figure.....
We had been informed just before getting on the train that all trains were late and arriving out of timetable order (just the thing to get you in a good mood for the evening). Consequently the platform was crowded with cranky tired people who just wanted to get home. I managed to get a seat (whew) in the vestibule area and because the Tangarra is especially geared for peak hour in Tokyo I was quite squished up in the corner. The angle I was sitting at gave me a front row seat so to speak, to a spectacle that was occuring in between the carriages.
For those who don't catch trains in Sydney (oh you are so fortunate) the area I'm talking about is roughly 2 metres square, the floor is a couple of round steel plates, one over the other that grind together and cover the coupling joining the carriages. The space is totally enclosed and has double glass sliding doors leading into each carriage.
Two men and a woman were sitting on the steel plates, pretending that they were on a roller coaster or a surf board perhaps, screaming with laughter, falling over each other and generally having a good time. At first it was moderately funny, in the way that it's fun to watch people laughing and having fun, then it became a bit scary as they were puting their hands next to the plates and playing 'chicken' as the floor moved. Of course they were drunk, there were two bottles of spirits that they were drinking from and of course someone got hurt. One of the men got his sleeve caught in the floor as it moved, then it ripped his shirt across the back and he started screaming that his hand was caught. Passengers who were close to him tried to open the doors to get in there to help him but the idiots had locked the door somehow and we couldn't get in.
He managed to free himself and stood up to show us all that he was ok and didn't need help. One couldn't help but notice that he had soiled himself (in fright no doubt) and wet himself.. Not to be outdone his friend decided that he needed to relieve himself, so he did, right there. Because the train was moving quite fast and he was pretty drunk he fell, right into his puddle and then slid over to his friend and into the mess he had left on the floor. At that point I was hoping that his appendage would get caught in the floor. Unfortunately that didn't happen. The woman in the mean time was hooking into the left over grog.
We passengers had a quick vote and decided that we would keep that part of the train locked until we could get out, so the three of them had to stay in there. Last I saw of them they were sitting on the floor smoking and finishing off their bottles and singing and laughing. Obviously the simpler things in life are often the best
Go figure.....
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