Anyway, imagine you're me. You're quite tall and you have facial hair that goes a different colour to your head hair after a couple of days without shaving. You wear massive glasses because at the time you thought you were hip and the man in Boots told you they suited you. You're currently wearing a flat cap. But most importantly, right now, you're about to get the train home. You booked your tickets weeks in advance to save yourself a small fortune and you're in the station very much on time, in fact you have so much time you can even manage to sneak in a quick visit to the Giraffe Cafe. Mmm, giraffes. The voice over the PA system informs you that your train has arrived and you prepare to board.
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| Choo choo. |
You, and me when I'm sticking to being myself and not forcing you to endure an outer body experience, don't have a coach letter on your ticket. You look all over, in places that no coach letter has ever before been seen, just in case it's hiding. It isn't. You are simply sat in seat 58. This could be any seat 58, apparently. You can't even be sure that the seat is situated on a train, maybe you're catching a long haul bus this evening. That'd be nice. But you make an educated guess that it is somewhere to be found on a train and you think, for some reason, it will be on coach E. You don't remember ever catching a train before and not being in coach E so fate suggests you'll be right. You sit down and wait until the train is just about to depart. You were not right. As someone else gleefully sits in the seat you thought was yours, you stand up and make your way to the next coach. Maybe today will be a coach D day? Or maybe it won't be. Someone else sits there too. This is embarrassing, you've already walked through the entirety of coach E with everyone knowing that you were the one who sat in the wrong seat and now, unless you want to pay for 1st class (you don't, you're not made of money) you'll have to trudge back through it to get to coach F where, surely, your seat can be found. You feel the heat of the eyes on your back because people are nosy and incapable of minding their own effing business. Coach F. You aren't sat there either.
You're running out of options, you try one final coach just to find disappointment there too before heading with a great sense of purpose to the nearest train guard.
'Oi, train guard,' you say. Where are your manners? You tell him that you don't seem to have a coach to sit in and expect him to fix your issue as that is his job. It turns out he is rubbish at his job and simply tells you that you're right, you indeed don't have a coach to sit in. East Coast Trains are sorry for this problem but unfortunately mistakes happen. Your only option will be to not have a seat whilst also not obstructing any gangways or doors. You are expected to hover, apparently. A lovely 1.45 hour train journey spent avoiding people who want to buy sandwiches and ticket attendants who want to tell you that you should be sitting in your designated seat which you DON'T BLOODY HAVE.
So, to summarise, it is not possible to look cool without a seat on a train. You will instead look frustrated, a little bitter and quite sorrowful as you hopelessly stare at your reservation in case a coach magically appears, which it doesn't. You will also have a suitcase fall on you, your head will smash repeatedly into the wall and a small child will ask his mum why that silly looking man with the ridiculous hat is sitting on the floor and why doesn't he have a seat?
I threw that kid out at Peterborough. He probably doesn't live there and if he does his punishment is harsh enough already.