In the train at Flinders Street platform 6 on Tuesday afternoon. Two teenage boys are skylarking. “I got stuck on a train once”, says one as they joke, walking through the carriage. The other sits down. They are headed elsewhere, but the train is going nowhere for now.
The first stands outside, pushes the door closed and mimics “beep beep beep beep”. Much hilarity.
They change their minds about the hilarity when the doors really close. From opposite sides, both try to re-open them, but the train driver’s not having it — he’s running late already.
The train full of people — with one who doesn’t want to be on it — starts to move off. “I’ll meet you back here”, he shouts to his mate, before sitting down to wait for the first stop.
I chuckle quietly, smirk and go back to my newspaper.
4 replies on “Flinders Street skylarking”
It’s almost poetic justice, really.
Ahhh, automatic doors on trains and commuters – great mix! It’s always interesting to see, particularly on the London Underground. What’s gonna get stuck next – a briefcase, a tie, a jacket tail. It’s a good excuse for sarcastic train drivers to jibe at passengers, though.
Hmmm, bad grammar and punctuation rules today! I am not implying that commuters have automatic doors :) What I meant, of course, is the relationship between automatic train doors and commuters. You knew that anyway.
In the days before train doors shut automatically you could run alongside a departing train, pull the door open and jump in.
One morning I saw a bloke trying to do this. He got the door open alright, tossed his bag in, but failed to get in himself. He was left there, watching his bag disappear down the line. You can imagine the look on his face.
We all laughed, of course.