Today I was on the train. It was a virgin train, so there weren’t many stops and of course there weren’t many seats either (Virgin trains are always busy, always). I decided that- instead of wandering through the coaches trying to find a seat- to just sit down in the place between carriages, on the dirty floor in my brand new coat and nice clothes. I was too tired and hungry to care. I got out my lunch and started to eat. We made our first stop and then we got going again. A man came and placed his luggage on the opposite end of the space we were in and asked me to watch it, to which I agreed. He came back and thanked me then sat down and thus started a long, very awkward time trapped in the small space between carriages, with nowhere to look and no one around. I’d say he was in his fifties, and he was clearly from a working class background (forgive me for saying that). He had a weathered look about him, like he had aged beyond his years. Maybe he was only in late forties. I never found out.
The train was headed up to Edinburgh and the man was Scottish. He had the humour of a Scotsman- the sort of humour which is so dry that you’re never quite sure when they are joking, and it throws you out more than a little. His humour was worse than my grandpa’s, and my grandpa has a habit of throwing me off and leaving me startled like a deer in the headlights, nervous and unsure and only laughing when he does (without ever really getting the joke). He also had a thick accent and he barely enunciated, mumbled his words and it was hard to understand him. Granted I’m the sort of person who- like Siwon from super junior for fellow fans- will hear one thing and transform it into something completely unrelated. Ask me for a banana and I could happily hand you an apple. I struggled to understand him. He seemed to have trouble hearing and also struggled to understand me. It was awkward, like we were speaking in foreign languages despite both speaking in English. He must have recognised something in my voice and asked me where I was from, so I told him I was South African. He told me he had friend in Joberg and had been there and I wasn’t surprised- lots of people have been there, know someone there or at least they imagine that know something about there (though it was nice to have someone really know about South Africa instead of the stupid remarks about lions or the shocked glances of “isn’t it dangerous there?”)
Over the course of the journey we chatted, him mainly leading the conversation. I found out he worked in construction and had been spending the past few months in London and was headed back to Scotland for the winter and that he travels all over the UK for his job. I told him I was studying engineering, and my father was an engineer (for which he gave me a knowing glance but never said anything although later he remarked that girls tend to favour their fathers, and boys their mothers >_>/<_<) He told me, and I wondered if the beer he had been casually drinking was not his first, that he thought he should have been a psychoanalyst because he can read people. I am sceptical, but used to these sorts of confessions due to my mother who is is of a similar view point and smile, nod. Smiling and nodding is the best course of action when people tell you things you don’t really believe for you should at least tolerate someone’s beliefs, just as they tolerate that you don’t believe. Then he tells me he can see me going back to South Africa and then travelling the world. That's the sort of thing someone likes to hear, but it's unnerving from a stranger. He tells me to travel the UK first and I nod along, dumbly, more than a little perturbed. He tells me I seem strong, in mind, and that I should be strong if I want to go anywhere. He comes across as rather cynical and a little bitter. But a typical Scotsman all in all, very dry and cynical lot they are (again, sorry).
We share complaints about UK and the shitty weather. He laughs and it makes him cough, and I wonder how many he smokes a day. There is something rough about him, and maybe that is why he made me feel a little uncomfortable. Of course I'm not just about to be rude and ignore him because he seems a little rough, a little old, like he smokes and he is obviously drinking beer. Of course.
The man looked at me when I spoke and it was quite unnerving. He had those eyes, deep set and clear blue, that seem to look straight through every barrier you put around you. My dad has eyes like that, and my uncle is the worst; his eyes are clear blue, wide and deep and looking straight into his eyes is vaguely petrifying. It really does feel like he's looking into the deepest part of you and its very unnerving. I can’t look my own uncle in the eyes, there I said it.
The man was king enough, friendly, if a little too much. I couldn't help but feel tense, awkward, and nervous. Wondering why he was speaking to me. Feeling a little sick, a little trapped in that space between carriages, the window high above me so there's nowhere to look at except the floor and god, him.
I take consolation in that if he unnerved me I probably unnerved him…with my nervous laughter, the way I stumbled over my sentences, the way I had to constantly ask him what he meant- even when he told me his name, for I did not realise he was telling me his name (he’d just told a joke! I told you Scottish humour throws me off!) and for a few humiliating seconds was staring at him like “what does William mean?” as if it was a word. I do tend to appear very stupid when you first meet me. I don’t do well with sudden encounters, with the pressure of trying to get to know someone new. I laugh too much and say stupid things off the top of my head. It’s unfortunate but true. It’s no wonder the guy gave me such an incredulous look when I told him I was doing engineering.
I don’t often meet people on the trains but when I do it’s always an awkward experience. That bullshit in movies where you meet a cute guy and click is so fucking far from the truth. The only encounters I’ve ever had have been awkward, fumbling, and embarrassing.
The man, William, smiled at me and wished me well in life as I stepped off the train. I gave him a small smile and said Goodbye. I think it’s safe to say that although there was something creepy underlying the encounter he was a very nice man.
That didn’t stop me from shaking for a few moments afterwards as all the tension left my body, feeling so damn relieved to be out of there. I felt embarrassed and have been bleaching my brain for hours, desperately trying to erase the encounter. Come on, universe- just once, a cute guy who isn’t drunk, or old, or with a girlfriend? Just once? I’ll promise I’ll try to have a normal, not stupid and fumbling, conversation with him. Please?
- Listening To: After School- Bang! (Rex Rowdee Blue Remix)
- mood: ok
