I keep running after the train.
And I’m angry almost every day.
Not because of the train. Heck, I love trains for their speed and convenience – local problems in the systems and maintenance aside, though, of course. I like the fact that train lines run across cities giving commuters a chance to travel from one city to another better than, say, city buses along EDSA would.
Save for passengers.
There are only two kinds of people riding the train: people who know where they’re going and people who just go with the flow.
People who know where they’re going are people who control their every step despite only having interstices to walk through upon entering a train wagon. Their strength lies in excuse mes and a little bit of pushing.
Then there are people who allow themselves to get pushed.
People by the train doors are like corks stuck at the neck of a bottle.
People by the train doors are like corks stuck at the neck of a bottle. People who don’t think about who come in or who come out; all they think about is their personal convenience of getting out of the train once they arrive at their stop – which is, by the way, not always the station after their loading bay. These is the type of people who complain when they get pushed, those who have the guts and voice to say “Wala nang space” (“No more space”) or “Wala nang iuurong!” (“No more room to budge!”) even though there is clearly space in the deeper sections of the train wagons. These are the people who just go with the flow, people who don’t have a clear direction where they’re going, people who probably suck at Tetris.
I mean, c’mon people! Two bread, one fish, five thousand people, and no magic. How do you think it happened?