The Coffins

I hardly ever catch the same train two mornings running. I try to get a different train each day as I like the uncertainty of being routineless. I can't stand the hum drum of everyday peak hour travel, the trip to and from the city is boring enough without being on the same carriage in the same seat of the same train every single morning of every single day of the working week. See You got bored just reading that, imagine living it! Besides, if you watch enough crime time on TV you would know that to vary your movements is to confuse everybody, my kind of kaos.
Anyway, there are only so many trains to a timeslot so in order to get to the salt mine on time one must create ones own boredom busters, different carriage, sit on the left, sit on the right, sit in the vestibule area, upstairs - downstairs and yes if there was a ladies chamber I'd sit there too.
Of course there are numerous commuters who don't share my eccentricity and would shudder at the thought and absolutely tremble at the execution of 'my routine'. It would take a momentous calamity to make them change.
Which brings me to the Coffins.
The Coffins (not their real name, I have Christened them this for obvious reasons) first came to my attention about 3 years ago because of the violent, barking hack coming from Mr Coffin as he struggled to regain his breath from running for the train.
I spotted the Coffins as I was waiting for the train one morning. They are a middle aged couple well into their 50's, not exactly a poster girl and boy for fit and healthy magazine (not that I am either) but they were running hard up a very steep ramp because the train was coming and if they didn't hurry they would miss it.
Not only did they make it but they made sure that they got into the carriage they wanted by walking through 2 carriages to the one I was sitting in. I was obviously in 'their' seat because they said as they came through. "Oh, that lady is in our seat" As I was the only one in the carriage I couldn't assume that they were talking about anyone else! So they sat in the seat behind me with some bad grace. Blimey if they had had their name on the damn seat I wouldn't have sat there!!
There was some heavy breathing going on there for a while (I didn't look around in case I was wrong but I reckon it was from the running) as they were dividing up the Herald between them and then the coughing started. Mr Coffin had a handkerchief held up to his mouth (thank Goodness for that small consideration to others) and was coughing his lungs up, loud, long and graphic. Have you ever heard a moulting Persian Cat throw a hairball through a loud speaker? Magnify that by 10! Oh my God it was just dreadful.
At first My sympathetic gene came to the fore, I offered him my unopened water bottle but he signalled that he was fine. Mrs Coffin was totally oblivious to the rib breaking convulsions happening in the seat next to her and just kept reading her Herald. (these Herald readers keep coming up, I might have to do a study here) She was the only person in the carriage that didn't want Mr Coffin dead by the time we got to Central Station. I must say that I have never found the newspaper so interesting that I am completely unaware that my Husband was choking on his own lung but hey if it happens every day then why worry.
Mr Coffin was with each hack, coming ever closer to being euthanased by a bunch of stressed out commuters. Couldn't get worse could it? Right. Coughing violently makes your eyes water, then your nose runs. No big deal. Well if you have a hack like that you must have a nasal gust to compliment it and Mr Coffin could mix quite comfortably with a flock of Canadian Geese judging by the volume.
Everyone was on a knifes edge waiting for the next incredibly loud expulsion from either his nose or his mouth, you couldn't relax. I'd have to say it was one of the most stressful train trips I have ever taken.
I caught that same train a couple of weeks later. Sat down (in a different seat) and sure enough they got on the train exactly the same way. Rushing down the stairs just as the train got in, walking through to the 3rd carriage and sitting in the (right one this time) same seat. Two sets of heavy breathing was followed by the rustling of Herald sharing, that incredibly foul cough and (the piece de resistance) the mating call of the slung arsed goose.
Being further back in the carriage I had an excellent view of the effect his persistant barking and honking was having on my fellow travellers. They went from concerned to sympathetic to annoyed to murderous in about 20 minutes.
I was intrigued so I caught the same train the next day. Same entrance and same behavour. Incredible!
Interestingly I noticed that there were mostly new people in the carriage. I'd say that you would only need a couple of trips to figure that those two were completely oblivious to the weirdness and annoyingness of it all. There didn't seem to be any other passengers in that part of the carriage that were regulars. Maybe someone really annoying can break that routine of same seat same carriage.
I often see them in the mornings, running hell bent for leather for the train but I don't feel the need to observe the ritual clearing of the pipes. There is only so much I can stand and if he did throw a lung I'd probably give him a standing ovation.