The American Classic of the 09:18 train

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s… book.”. If such commandment existed I would be the most sinful of all sinners! It doesn’t matter how good the book/magazine article/bottle label I’m reading is, I will always be interested in what people around me are reading. If in the corner of my eye I see a a book cover…  I will, most likely, take a break of whatever I’m reading, and start coveting my neighbor’s book. I’m not proud of it, of course, but it is what it is.

Not only will I (quite absentmindedly) envy in silence what other people are reading, but I will also make quick mental notes about it. Oh yes, “though this be madness, yet there is method in ’t” as Polonius said to Hamlet. I’ll find myself laying about mental notes “hmm… interesting!”, “aaaah, that’s on my to read list, yes”, “really?! You’re wasting precious brain cells on THAT?”, “I wonder if the translation is any good?”, “Oh I loved that! Isn’t it wonderful?”, “You are in for some great hours of entertainment!”, “there’s a sequel?!”, “mom and dad have that one, I should borrow it from them…”, and so forth. But rarely do I take notice of the reader, the object of my attention (and coveting…) is solely the book.

Of course, commuting, only heightens my coveting skills: there’s so much supply! I think it was last year, as I was getting out of the train and walking towards the tube I saw “…wain… berry… ventures”. I had an immediate laughing mental note “Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn! Who doesn’t like an old fashioned boyish adventure? Well Huckleberry Finn is a bit more serious, but still… I really need to borrow it from Mom and Dad…”. When I was in the tube platform waiting for the train, I bothered to take a look at the reader of such adventures. First I noticed the well cared for hand, with the shiny band of gold in the ring finger, that was holding “…wain… berry… ventures”. Then the light blue shirt, the impeccable navy blue suit jacket and trousers, the dark shiny shone shoes, the trimmed, well combed hair, the marble smooth shaved face, the chiseled profile, the striking dark brown eyes. Everything about him was sharp and elegant. Though he wasn’t very tall, he stood out in the platform of tired, sleepy, grumpy commuters like myself. Even the way he walked on the platform was striking, he wasn’t walking really, he was strolling purposefully,  with poise, balancing his suitcase on one hand and the book in the other. I’ll admit I was mesmerized: he was a walking, living, breathing handsome advert for Hugo Boss, with a Mediterranean flair. I sighed, I was coveting, all right, but not the book anymore…

Some time ago, I was running late and rushed into the 09:18 train to Lisboa, sitting in whatever seat was available. And there it was “…iamond…ig…Ritz”, another American classic, but by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I have always wondered what a diamond as big as the Ritz was, and made a mental note to read the book. And then, to my surprise, who else but the elegant commuter, was sitting across from me, reading “The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and other stories”. Again, he looked impeccable, his coat neatly folded resting on his knees, the suitcase by his side. However,  my American Classic was sleepy, so he carefully kept his book in the suitcase, lowered his chin and took a nap. I tried very hard to concentrate on my own book, but it was quite difficult: the American Classic, even sleeping and slouching, with one of the shirt buttons undone was quite handsome.

Since then, I’ve been curious: what is a diamond as big as the Ritz, really? And does he only read American classics? Is he like the tall, slim, pale, curly hair “thronie”* on black skinny jeans, that is devoted to the one genre? I feel tempted to recommend Steinbeck to him, but I’m still mustering up the courage to do it. Until then, the American Classic of 09:18 train, is the highlight of my tardiness.

Note: “thronie” was the suggested name, from a friend on Facebook, for a fan of The Game of Thrones.

Breaking the rules

This week, while commuting, I broke the rules. Without her noticing, I took the picture of this lovely lady, The Psalm Reader, without asking her permission. Worse still, I published it on Instagram and Flickr and now here on this blog.

I know it's not catastrophic, since I have less than a dozen followers, and I tried to keep her face out of focus. But she's is probably someone's Grandmother, Mother, relative.

If, by any chance, you are her grandchild, please know that the picture was taken lovingly: at her peaceful expression, at her quaint elegance, at the fierceness with which she held the book and her total and complete oblivion of her surroundings.

Here's hoping that there is a wise psalm to guide foolish commuters like me. If there's not, this is my tribute to the elderly and grandparents, their quiet wisdom.

Happy Grandparents' Day!

Shady Business

Amadora, Train Station

Love Actually…different

Arrivals at Lisbon’s Portela Airport are not, I’m afraid, as romantic as Heathrow’s.  Actually they are not romantic at all. As I was standing there, quite eager to hug my arriving friend, I realized that there was little hugging taking place. Actually, no hugging at all. Some cheek-kissing (very social, not emotional), only one bouquet of flowers and several middle-aged man.

I realized then, that in Lisboa grandfathers play an important role in airports as the travelers’ ride home. For each travel agent there were at least five older looking men, and they all had something in common: infinite patience and a simultaneous discontentment with the airline service (which airline is irrelevant, for they all seemed upset). Some grandfathers brought with them one grandchild, but mostly were alone. I looked at them and noticed that besides the body language – arms crossed in front of the chest, attentive look, internal sighing for patience – the attire was similar among them. They all wore jeans, comfortable shoes, meticulously well ironed shirts (not plain, pastel colours and with checkers or crossed lines) and spectacles, of course.  How can you spot the person who is arriving if you are over fifty and not using spectacles?

And then, as the passenger  would arrive, these grandfathers broke their stern look for a quick smile, some gesturing right or left to indicate the exit. They would greet the traveler, take the trolley of their hands and lead them to the car. Unfortunately, I could not hear what they were talking about, but it seemed that there were some complaints about the airline and the latest update on current events.

It occurred to me that this kind of efficiency could be transformed into a bussiness: “Are you alone? Are you travelling to a foreign place? Grandfathers’ Arrivals provide you with a comfortable and homy escort from the airport to your final destination!”. 

I can picture it now, side by side the travel agents, middle aged men with discreet signs “Ms. Soul flying from Heathrow”, and a small tag on their chest pocket “Grandfather Silva”.

Commuting: the game

Unfortunately there is a prominent “belt tightening” in Portugal, and not due to nutritional needs. The number of commuters, especially in the middle of the month, is increasing slightly. At first you don’t notice, but then there’s this feeling that the train/tube is shrinking, becoming a tighter and crowded space. To make yourself comfortable in this environment it takes some preparation, or rather warm up, because commuting is a x-game. Beware, rookies, for if you are not aware of the rules and players, you’ll be eaten alive or worst still, forgotten and injured in the train/tube platform (most likely, on the wrong stop).

Hopping on: it’s important you take your time hopping on, especially when the door closing alarm begins, because this will lead to some frustration and to some elbowing and shoving around. Even though it’s quite uncomfortable to be pushed, you cannot really complain, because the person behind you is respecting the queue. And the push you feel, it’s just a bit of encouragement, so don’t be dismayed by it.

This brings us to the x-gamers profiles:

a) The expert: usually over 40 he/she has at least 20 years of experience in commuting. The expert will stand, with astounding accuracy, exactly in front of the door, even before the bus/train/tube arrives. This x-gamer will also manage to get in just in a matter of seconds, without disrupting the queue or giving the chance for the passengers to alight. The expert x-gamer will be the first to hop on and to hop of. Sometimes the expert will give fellow commuters a bit of “encouragement” too, to achieve his/her flawless performance.

b) The expert wannabe: lacks the finesse of the real expert, but takes the game with the same amount of seriousness. The commuting manners, however leaves a lot to desire… There will be a bit more pushing around and less politeness. Speed is all that matters. The expert wannabe will be responsible for the alighting stampede. Even if you don’t want to hop off on that particular stop, you’ll be pushed out by the stampede. It takes seconds. When it comes to sitting, he/she will spot a vacant seat and aim at it at light speed.

c) The pole dancer: usually females, these commuters will, instead of holding the handle on the seats or the ones hanging from the ceiling, hold to pole. More than holding, she will be hugging it. Since the poles are usually right in front of the doors, in order to avoid being pushed by other passengers, she will dodge passengers turning to one side or the other, but never letting go of the pole. More, the intellectual pole dancer, will do this while reading a neatly folded newspaper or a thick book. During the exiting stampede she will be an uncomfortable obstacle and won’t be able to avoid the shoving and pushing.

d) The bouncer: like night clubs bouncers, he takes his task very seriously. He will, quite inconveniently, stand in front of the door conditioning entrances and exits. It doesn’t matter how packed the train/tube is he won’t leave his spot, until he arrives at his stop.

e) The media manager: this commuter will bring his/own newspaper and leave it on the seat before alighting, for the next passenger. The experienced media manager will swap his/her newspaper with the one left behind by the former passenger. Unfortunately for fellow commuters, the media manager is too engrossed in the reading to realize that he/she is flipping the pages like a fan and stroking the other passengers with it. He/she will not acknowledge as well that his elbows are pushing the passenger next to him/her away from the seat.

f) The DJ: forget about readable information, it’s all about your mp3 player and your earphones. To do it correctly, the music must be loud enough for the other passengers to listen to it, or just be upset by the constant bzzt bzzt bzzzt. The DJ will make you wonder what are the earphones really for. Of course, this commuter will be in another dimension and most likely will miss his/her exit. Don’t sit near them, you’ll be pushed.

The teenager DJ will be accompanied by a huge backpack. Unaware how big the bag is it will knock fellow passengers over, like a bowling ball.

g) The kidney puncher bag: only females. They will have trendy, huge bags, usually rectangular shaped. These bags will be hanging from one of the shoulders, and punch mercilessly right on your kidneys. The bag puncher will be completely oblivious of this, as well as that her bag is opened.

h) The grocery shopper: usually over 50, these commuters will carry with them, preferably at rush hour, huge bags filled with groceries. Fellow commuters will be sympathetic and give groceries shoppers’ their seat. If you are seating next to them, you have to smile and nod politely while your knees are being savagely kicked by the bags. If by any chance you alight before grocery shopper, most likely you’ll trip on the bags, lose your balance, and find yourself grabbing some stranger’s arm, before seeing the floor up and close. The expert grocery shopper will have wonderful pole dancer skills. Seating or standing, either way, he/she will be a nuisance.

The trick to survive commuting and win at this x-game is to recognize what type of fellow commuters you are facing and dodge them elegantly.

Namaste!