The Last Train Home

A late night out, a few drinks after work, the hideous reality of overtime; there are many reasons that might result in your eventual journey on the final train of the evening.  Public transport may even let you down, forcing you to choose a destination as close to home as possible, when your ideal location is not among your list of options posted violently on those flashing departure boards.  Regardless of the situation that has led you to be on this carriage at this late hour, there is one thing that you can count on – you won’t be surrounded by your average group of commuters.  

Tragic Drunkard

First of all there will be your token alcoholic.  Not merely a homeless, hideously scented hopeless sort, but the subtly more tragic type.  Having wasted all of their potential, given up on their dreams and aspirations, they endlessly mourn for what could have been, taking comfort only in the bottom of the bottle.  Slurring their skewed version of advice as you pass by, searching for any other vacant seat, expect to be told something along the lines of ‘never give up’ or ‘I could have been famous you know’.  He will take himself home to a dingy bedsit littered with the remains of dinners-for-one, where he may or may not remove his shabby Matalan suit before unconsciousness takes over.   

Silent Single Lady

As you leave behind this inebriated idiot, you will notice the quiet passenger curled onto a double seat.  Sitting out of the way and out of sight, this typically female passenger will observe the goings on of the carriage inhabitants throughout the journey.  Dressed to look as prim as Mary Poppins, with a skirt never higher then knee length, she will never make a sound.  Too timid to join in yet too intrigued to ignore, she will hang on to every word that is shared as the typical British rule of silence between strangers is lifted on this bizarre trip somewhere in the direction of home.  When she departs and returns to her obsessively neat one bedroom flat, a sense of regret will wash over her and vow to next time think of something witty to contribute. 

Rowdy would-be Romeos

Somewhere near to where you choose to sit will soon become occupied by a raucous group of some description.  With crinkled suits covered in tell-tale traces of many episodes of the tequila-lime-salt routine, they have long forgotten the anxious wives or girlfriends eagerly awaiting their return at home.  Here to provide the entertainment, happy to play up to an audience and with no regard for what is generally considered to be socially acceptable behaviour.  Unfortunately, this collection of troublemakers can often prove too much to handle, sometimes offending others or assuming that they are more amusing than the reality of the situation allows them to be.  Fortunately, a recent experience landed me with three of the best companions that a forty minute train ride could provide me with. 

After being blasted with a terrible rendition of several butchered classics which the trio had sung along to whilst on their night out, I was then informed of the eventful highlights which had made their evening one I doubt they will forget any time soon.  Celebrating his resignation at a company he had tired of, Steve had taken it upon himself to drag his two closest work companions to the Piano Bar in Leicester Square in order to get steamingly drunk and chat up women who were uninterested, unavailable, or unattractive… purely for the fun of it. 

Defending his actions after his two companions pointed out his forgotten wife back at home, the accused tried to explain to me the precise guidelines which result in his ridiculous theory that taking somebodies Blackberry pin, rather than their phone number, means that you aren’t crossing any lines.  Alcohol induced intelligence at its very best.  As convincing as my temporary travel acquaintance aimed to be, I remained sceptical as to his muddled logic but nevertheless enjoyed the company all the same.

Stopping at Surbiton, the carriage inhabitants were left to their own devices as I departed.  I can only imagine what ensued, but fail to forget that particular late night circus which our public transport system provided me with and shall never again underestimate quite how quickly an otherwise uneventful journey can pass you by.