Priority Seats

Awkward social situations – i love them. The silences. The glances. The squirming. The blushes. The stilted conversation. But there’s a fine line – there’s awkward and then there’s just plain rude.

The ‘Priority Seats’ sign on public transport for example. There is no other sign in the world that sends my mind into such a whirlwind of confusion. Except maybe those ‘alternative’ signs on toilet doors in poncey pubs that make me question my gender at quite possibly the most innapropriate moment; and also make me wish i’d paid more attention at school. I don’t know whether i’m a Brock or a Sow*, all i know is that i can’t handle a pop quiz on a full bladder. I’m not too great under pressure at the best of times, let alone when the pressure is pressing firmly down on my bladder.  

It’s just like eating a big meal before going swimming. Like mother used to say…”Don’t go outside with your hair still wet, don’t speak to strangers and most certainly do not attempt to question your gender after 4 pints of cider.”

I have to admit – depending on how the nights going – sometimes the public toilets can combine all three. Just don’t tell mom. She worries when i have a cold…

I was on the train today, from London Bridge back to New Cross Gate, where i live. It’s only a short journey – about 7 minutes maximum. Being the prepared commuter that i am, i was early for the train, and preceeded to smugly settle down in my chosen seat. End of the aisle, close to the doors, as far away from the drunk man mashing a cornish pasty into his face as humanly possible. Perfect. Or so i thought…

My promptness has now placed me in an unenvieable position. While i wait for the train to depart, i eavesdrop on the telephone conversation the  Nigella Lawson look-a-like sat opposite me is having. I have no idea who or what the person on the other end of the phone was saying, but i did pick up on a few choice phrases:

1. “Oooh – so what are you thinking of cooking. Lovely. (Pause) Yeah, you’re right  I think you should add more salt just to be on the safe side.”

2. “We’re selling Crete? Brilliant. Right now, i know it’s awful but i don’t even care; i just want it gone.  That last holiday was awful. I just can’t be bothered to go through all that again.”

3. “My maths is terrible – but that’s plenty! 40,000 euros? Dad won’t even know what that means – and he’s so old now he’ll never spend it anyway… “

Maybe i’m being melodramatic…but each of those statements sound like they could have been extracted from a witness testimony in a murder trial. Dad is clearly old. A burden even, and a terrible tour guide apparently. But he does have a lovely holiday home in Crete which we could covince him to sell - fuck it 40,000  euros would split quite nicely between us. A nice salty supper for tea one night and BANG – with his stomach ulcers he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Talk about cutting out the middle man.

By the time i had mentally murdered the father i’ve never met of this probably harmless yet beautiful woman – there were still 3 minutes to go before departure. Ugh. The amount of bodies in the carriage was increasing as rapidly as the oxygen levels and my tolerance of other human beings was decreasing. In order to distract myself i indulged in some over the shoulder reading. Cautiously. Last time i attempted to slyly read the paper from a raised seat over the shoulder of a smart businessman sitting infront of me it didn’t end well. Needless to say…i never got to finish the article because one of the Quavers i was munching on landed smack bang in the middle of the page. Luckily, i’d brought a grab bag. I was too relieved to be embarrassed.

Where was i? Ah yes – over the shoulder entertainment. God bless you digital world; you have given me the power to read how utterly dull other peoples lives are via facebook mobile. (In all honesty i can’t really judge them - i’m writing a blog at 2am on a thursday about train journeys. But i’ll continue to judge them regardless…) Top three mindless status updates anyone? No, me neither. Oh, and for your information, if you’re on Farmville – i genuinely hope you and your entire ‘farm’ get a raging case of foot and mouth disease. Hell, i’ll even provide the match.

Long story short, this girl had boring friends -even she looked completely baffled why she still keeps in touch with them. Three excruciating minutes later, the train was uncomfortably rammed. I was suddenly so very aware that my journey was only going to be 7 minutes and all these poor commuters had much further to go than i, so i contemplated giving up my seat. Until i noticed the Priority Seats sign. Nightmare. Now i couldn’t give my seat up without inadvertantly offending someone. Let’s face it – selflessness is a rarity in this day and age. According to the sign, and i quote “Someone’s need for a seat may not be obvious, for example they may have a hidden disability or be in the early stages of pregnancy.”

FUCK THAT! A hidden disability? I’ll never sit down on a train again if that’s the criteria you’re giving me.

Early stages of pregnancy? What if they’re just a bit fat? Had a good night on the beer? Or wearing an unflattering top? Not everyone can carry off leggings and a tunic you know. Despite what TopShop tells you…

I’m not giving up my seat up for a drunken chuffer – just because i’m too scared to ask if shes preggers or not. And hidden disabilities? That’s like me going… “Well, Parkinsons runs in the family, so it’s only a matter of time really. It’s lying dormant at the moment but it could strike at any time…just look at Michael J Fox. Can i sit down please?” 

On further investigation it also stated that ‘expectant mothers’ should be given priority wherever possible. Well if that’s true, my mom should never travel on anything below First Class – because she’s been expecting me to sort my life out and make something of myself for a long time now. And i really would like to…but i just can’t stand the thought of her having to stand up for a whole train journey. Not with her diabetes; it’s hidden you see.

And on that note…i’ll bid thee farewell x

*Just incase you were wondering, i’m a Sow – it’s a female Badger don’t you know.