travelog no.1

Travel log 1600/30/04/07

The journey begins poorly: the train is disrupted due to engineering, and terminates in whitham, rather than London, meaning I've got to take a coach, adding 45 minutes to the journey. The train carriage is populated with people whom normally wouldn't bother me, but having fallen back into a state of nicotine dependence, set me on edge. Wittering phone users, cooing couples and (admittedly muted) children who simply irritate me to look at.

Additionally, on the way back from a grubby toilet, I catch the cord to my spangly new headphones & rip the plug off. They're salvageable with the purchase of a new cord, but that's going to be hella irritating tomorrow morning... EDIT: a quick call to my brother establishes that he has such a cord at his residence, and that he will permit me to use it. Huzzah! Family connections finally pay off!

The point of all this strange, dry prose above is to mask my mild yet palpable nervousness. For some reason, I've a fear that I won't be accorded entry to the US: maybe it's got something to something to do with a recent episode of Boston Legal that I watched this week where the Shatner character mistakenly gets placed on the No-Fly List. Shatner has taught us many valuable lessons through the medium of television, and should be heeded.

1630

Now on a bus sparsely populated with fellow refugee travellers. I'm not saying it's like Darfur, but the fact remains that we are peoples displaced by the whims of those in power, i.e. whatever faceless bureaucrat that decides to carry out works on the track every Sunday.

The coach is driven by an ugly lady driver. How come, air stewardesses aside, one never sees attractive females working in the employ of public transport? There should be some kind of benchmark overseen by a committee made up of publicly appointed officials. Though thinking about it, they'd probably botch it as they have the railways. Mind you, I have sympathy for our half troll chauffeur, as she was accused of breaking the law by an irate motorist stuck behind the convoy of four coaches parked by the rail station. The confrontation was brief and relatively mild, but none the less contributed to my general sensation of unease. I am wearing my seat belt, and rapidly growing weary of the talkative Japanese couple seated near me. Today, hell is other people, and I miss my noise cancelling headphones more than ever...