04 November 2009
Just a dude on a train - part 3
Part three of my account of meeting a bizarre man on a train. Parts one and two are before this one, so read those first if you haven't already. Splendid.
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Despite the man’s outwardly aggressive demeanour, I didn’t feel threatened by him. Everything he said – no matter how menacing in content – was delivered with a wry smile, rendering it almost charming as he described to me that he was carrying twenty five weapons on him. I struggled to see how this man could possibly conceal so many weapons unless he was counting body parts among his arsenal. In fairness, he could have easily damaged me with each of his fingers and toes, so when you also include his elbows, knees and head, it’s conceivable that he was telling the truth.
“I’ve been inside for twenty years”, he confided. Twenty years? That’s a hefty amount of time to be in prison and I had to force myself not to dwell too much on what crime he could have committed to warrant such a lengthy sentence. Maybe it was for dismembering a police officer and stuffing him under some seats.
After this brief bout of small talk, the man excused himself and entered the toilet, which was in the same carriage. Fair enough I thought, no matter how grim the on-board facilities are, it can’t be worse than shitting in a bucket. A train toilet may be the very last bastion for the bowels of a desperate traveller, but to someone recently released from prison it’s probably a bit of a treat. No doubt that was why he was taking so long in there. Then I noticed the smell of cigarette smoke slowly pervading the carriage, which appeared to be emanating from the cubicle. It was at that point that a member of staff appeared in the carriage to check people’s tickets. It was Jane the train.
Initially, she wandered past the toilet without paying it much attention. Then she paused mid-stride, performed an exaggerated sniff and turned to retrace her steps, stopping directly outside the toilet door. My travelling companion had been rumbled. Although he was smoking, my guess was that it was the most trivial of the crimes he’s committed. It was clear that Jane the train didn’t see it the same way as she banged on the door… “Is there someone smoking in there?” she demanded. “No” came the reply as a plume of smoke billowed out from underneath the carriage. Jane the train was not amused. “If you keep smoking, I’ll have police waiting at Euston”.
Now this was the last thing my recently released companion needed and against my better judgement I found myself feeling protective over him. I mean he’d been removed from society for twenty years. Before he went inside, it was perfectly acceptable to smoke on a train, so maybe in his eyes he was doing nothing wrong. When the toilet door slid open and he emerged though a fog of smoke, he resembled a contestant from Stars in their Eyes. A second-rate tribute to The Levellers.
At that point I decided to take him under my wing. He may have been ill-equipped to deal with modern society when he got on the train, but by god I intended to do what I could to reintegrate him in the two remaining hours. When we finally pulled into Euston I would release him into the wild a changed man. In hindsight this was overly optimistic, but it worked in My Fair Lady didn’t it? I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had him walking the length of the carriage balancing books on his head and reciting poems with perfectly clipped vowels.
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Despite the man’s outwardly aggressive demeanour, I didn’t feel threatened by him. Everything he said – no matter how menacing in content – was delivered with a wry smile, rendering it almost charming as he described to me that he was carrying twenty five weapons on him. I struggled to see how this man could possibly conceal so many weapons unless he was counting body parts among his arsenal. In fairness, he could have easily damaged me with each of his fingers and toes, so when you also include his elbows, knees and head, it’s conceivable that he was telling the truth.
“I’ve been inside for twenty years”, he confided. Twenty years? That’s a hefty amount of time to be in prison and I had to force myself not to dwell too much on what crime he could have committed to warrant such a lengthy sentence. Maybe it was for dismembering a police officer and stuffing him under some seats.
After this brief bout of small talk, the man excused himself and entered the toilet, which was in the same carriage. Fair enough I thought, no matter how grim the on-board facilities are, it can’t be worse than shitting in a bucket. A train toilet may be the very last bastion for the bowels of a desperate traveller, but to someone recently released from prison it’s probably a bit of a treat. No doubt that was why he was taking so long in there. Then I noticed the smell of cigarette smoke slowly pervading the carriage, which appeared to be emanating from the cubicle. It was at that point that a member of staff appeared in the carriage to check people’s tickets. It was Jane the train.
Initially, she wandered past the toilet without paying it much attention. Then she paused mid-stride, performed an exaggerated sniff and turned to retrace her steps, stopping directly outside the toilet door. My travelling companion had been rumbled. Although he was smoking, my guess was that it was the most trivial of the crimes he’s committed. It was clear that Jane the train didn’t see it the same way as she banged on the door… “Is there someone smoking in there?” she demanded. “No” came the reply as a plume of smoke billowed out from underneath the carriage. Jane the train was not amused. “If you keep smoking, I’ll have police waiting at Euston”.
Now this was the last thing my recently released companion needed and against my better judgement I found myself feeling protective over him. I mean he’d been removed from society for twenty years. Before he went inside, it was perfectly acceptable to smoke on a train, so maybe in his eyes he was doing nothing wrong. When the toilet door slid open and he emerged though a fog of smoke, he resembled a contestant from Stars in their Eyes. A second-rate tribute to The Levellers.
At that point I decided to take him under my wing. He may have been ill-equipped to deal with modern society when he got on the train, but by god I intended to do what I could to reintegrate him in the two remaining hours. When we finally pulled into Euston I would release him into the wild a changed man. In hindsight this was overly optimistic, but it worked in My Fair Lady didn’t it? I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had him walking the length of the carriage balancing books on his head and reciting poems with perfectly clipped vowels.
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