Doug

This story started about 8 months ago
Is there anything more frustrating than just getting to the bottom of the stairs on the train platform and the train doors close?
The guard watches you doing a ‘Raelene Boyle’ up the ramp and over the top of the lines, down the stairs and just as you think that:
a) you have made it and
b) what a nice train guard
he/she has meticulously timed the door closure to the exact moment that you land on the bottom step. Your momentum takes you to within a poofteenth of the closing doors which have a gap, just big enough for you to (foolishly) fit your hand into.
Thankfully the door is surrounded by rubber so it is a matter of just reefing your hand out of the door before the airlock traps it otherwise you will be running alongside that train at 80 kms per hour because the guard is not going to open those doors no matter what!!
I have even seen people smash into the doors, a combination of not having brakes and frustration at having been foiled by the conductor.
Then the train pulls out and the guard stares at you, actually locks eyes, with a look of belligerence/wry humour/triumph. And as the train gathers momentum he/she (if they are a particularly cruel breed) will look back and give you a wave and a smile.
Usually, I find there are 5 stages you must go through when this occurs;
Denial – “OMG!!!! This isn’t happening!!!!” “I cant believe he/she just closed the doors in my face” “I was right there, one second more……”
Anger – that little @#$%^hole, short, fat ^&*() bald *&^”:+ moronic +=:;#@ faced &^%$ sucker…..
Bargaining/threatening – with the Station Master…..” pulease can you make the fast train stop here, I’ll give you money, I’ll give you my first born, I have a fork I, I’ll poke your eye out, don’t make me get nasty, I’ll sue….
Depression – Oh why didn’t they wait, I should have left home earlier, I’m useless, I can’t even get a train to wait for me, what’s the use? I may as well go home and go back to bed because the next train will only be cancelled….
Acceptance – oh well, I’ll be a little late. Oooooooh look at that bird flying overhead, is that a rose I can smell, I wonder where it is, hmmmmmm what a nice day, I might get a fair bit of reading done here in the nice warm sun on the platform, gee that bird's song is beautiful….
BUT on this particular morning, as I was pelting up the ramp a bout of lethargy overtook me. Do I care if I’m 10 minutes late? Should I pull a muscle or have a heart attack for the cause? Do I need to turn up for work sweating like a marathon runner? Will the legal world fall apart if I’m not there for a few minutes? Hang on a minute!! I’m becoming “Stepfordised”!!!
I stop running, the train is sitting at the platform, the carriage doors are open, beckoning me, I can hear them whispering to me to hurry. The Guard is smiling encouragingly at me. The urge to run is frighteningly strong. I force myself to walk calmly and with dignity down the steps. The doors close with a hiss of disappointment and an angry snap. Ha! I think, I’m no mindless lemming, you can go find another victim, I’m in control here, I’m calm, peaceful, and happy.
As I step onto the platform filled with a feeling of inner peace, clarity and sense of oneness with the natural world, I glance at the guard expecting to see a look of vanquishment on his face. Strange, he is beckoning to me to come closer. In my clarity of mind I can see that this could be a foolish thing to do, he is obviously going to abuse me or make me run over only to shut the door in my face or something worse. But I think ‘what the hey’. If he needs to vent or if his universe is out of alignment then it’s ok, I’ll cop the flack, I’ve just had an epiphany, I’m immune.
I ventured closer, the guard spoke….’hurry up you stupid bugger, get on’. Instinct took over, epiphany flew out the window and I jumped aboard into the guards’ compartment just as the train started to pull out.
This was new!!! Now that we had crossed the us/them barrier, what do we do now? We eyed each other suspiciously, after all we are a totally different species, communication between this divide is almost unheard of.
He pointed to his chest and said ‘Doug’. I reciprocate and say ‘Deb’. That was easy. We both smile and relax a bit.
Doug says that he is not normally allowed to have passengers in the guards van but he is feeling very magnanimous this morning.
I thank him profusely for letting me ride with him and not leaving me on the platform.
He says not to worry and If I don’t mind a bit of a chatterbox he would love to have company all the way into Central Station.
The train is packed, there are no seats in the carriages (this sways me more than anything I must admit) and he seems like a really nice man (if a little on the rough side) SO I take my life in my hands and decide to stay where I am.
I ask Doug why he is feeling so generous when he obviously loves giving passengers a hard time. Turns out his wife has been suffering from kidney failure and has been on dialysis for a number of years. She has been on the transplant list for a long time but for one reason or another there have been no compatible kidneys for her. Apparently their 3 children aren’t a match either so her Doctor assumed that Doug would be a total mismatch and didn’t have him tested at all.
She went to a new specialist a few weeks ago because her condition had deteriated. He decided to test Doug and they found a 1 in 200 000 000 miracle. (his words not mine)
Doug got the letter last night that he is a 95% match to his wife and both his kidneys are happy and healthy. He told me that it is almost unheard of for a husband/wife match at that high a percentage.
So last night they celebrated 25 ¾ years of marriage with a glass of champagne and Doug’s vow to donate a kidney to his wife.
When he saw me running for the train and then give up, he decided that he had to pass on his euphoria as it seemed to be a mean, small thing to leave me stranded.
His joy at being able to save her was infectious and moving, and I told him that he had definitely passed on his good vibes to me and that he should keep doing so as it was obviously doing a bit of good in the world.
As we pulled into Central Station he also explained the procedure regarding the train doors, apparently once the doors are shut, the guard is unable to re-open them unless there is some kind of emergency. (That still doesn’t explain why they shut them in our faces, but I guess they have to get some enjoyment out of a rotten job)
I wish Doug all the best, thank him and leave the train thinking, thanks to his random act of kindness my epiphany feeling was back, I was alive and strong and I felt good even knowing that I’ll never know the outcome of his story.
Until today…as I stand on the platform waiting for the train to stop who should I see hanging out of the guard’s compartment but my friend Doug.
I go over to him and remind him of the day he gave me a lift. He remembered me and asked me to jump in.
I only travelled a couple of stops with him but I found out that his wife had had her operation, he showed me his scar (quite a big cut and very painful he tells me) and said that his wife was exceptionally well and they had booked a trip overseas in a few months to celebrate her newfound health.
He is so obviously in love with his wife still, it is lovely to see him drag out a photo of a nice looking lady (who looks as if she hasn’t seen a sick day in her life) and lovingly look at it before handing it to me.
Just goes to show, that mongrel who hangs out of the door and flips you the bird as you bend over double sucking in oxygen, your lungs pumping like a blacksmith’s bellows, could just be having a bad day…..