In Training

When there are limited options on the commute home and you are seated between two hefty  man-spreaders.

You marvel at your ability to constrict every muscle in your body, to suck everything in lest your legs and arms  inadvertently connect with the overly meaty limbs of the post-work-day tradie on your right and the cheap synthetic fabric of the suited guy on your left.

As the train shudders and rocks navigating the frequently changing tracks and pulls into stations, you realise that your efforts are futile, and as a non-touchy feely intoverted type, you find yourself inwardly recoiling (quelle horreur 🤢) as you become rapidly acquainted with the radiating body heat and skin to skin/suit contact of strangers.

With an hour left of travel, your senses are heightened to each slight adjustment or movement of your travelling companions, optimistic that their glance towards their backpack, or a change in posture means they are preparing to off-load at the next station.

Alas, all hopes are dashed as they slouch back into the shared seat and spread out even further from their shoulders to toes, flicking yet another video to watch up onto the screen of their phone.

And then, when you have finally resigned yourself to a torturous journey as a reluctant sandwich filling, you note the two people across from you have arisen to exit the train leaving behind (like a shining beacon of freedom) a vacant seat!

Never underestimate the speed and agility of an opportunist on a crowded train.

Vive la liberte!