Summer Memories: Train Days
The first step in a new journey
The next train approaching platform 3 is the 10:04 service to-
I stopped listening to the announcement on the tannoy. It wasn’t for my train after all; mine was the next one. As the 10:04 train slowed
to a stop, I saw the crowds of people gather towards the doors. Impatient commuters rushing for a seat, unaware of cyclists toting their
bikes in the same direction. That not-so-subtle edging towards the front of the queues from the sides, getting glares from older people
wanting to call them out, but not quite courageous enough to. Everyone does it, after all. Through the wide window, I see people from
previous stations watch the calm chaos to see if they can get away with keeping their neighboring seat empty of someone. Some adjust their
bags to make them take up more space on the seat, while others see the volume of new commuters, and resign themselves to putting bags on
their laps or by their feet, freeing up the space next to them.
Content that humanity is the same as it ever was, I look up to the roof of the carriage. The mist emanating from pipes and the heat of the
sun make the sky directly above the train shimmer a warm haze. Behind that, the sky is a picturesque blue, with clouds dotting the horizon
to remind those on the ground of the heavy rainfall the night before. I try not to look too hard up at that blue sky, having a near-clear
view into the atmosphere always creeped me out slightly, knowing that I’m looking directly up at a stratosphere of nothingness. Though, I
suppose it’s weird that having a few clouds obstruct the view is normally all that’s enough to keep these existential thoughts at bay.
A loud whistle from the conductor snaps me from my own haze. The older man peeking out from one of the carriage doors looks around for any
stragglers, before making another whistle and slinking back into the coach, shutting the door with the push of a button. Seconds later, the
train lightly jolts into action and begins to get back on its way. It picks up speed and the passengers inside turn into blurs, their
bustling around for seats being made unintelligible. The last of the attached coaches glides past, and with it a small breeze drifts through
in its wake.The station platform becomes eerily silent as I become the last person waiting on this side of the tracks. Looking up at a
nearby screen I notice my train is a few minutes away, then a voice on the tannoy confirms what I just read. It continues to make some
safety announcements that I’ve heard a hundred times before, and choose to zone it out with the music in my headphones.
Minutes later I feel a slight tremor, and with it the tracks make a distinct almost-electric noise that accompanies a train’s arrival. The
sleek high-speed train slows before me, and eventually the signs on the side declaring its destination become legible. Reading the name I
check the station sign as I get up and gather my bag. I’ve made this journey before but always like to double check it stops where I need it
to, since who knows when a last-minute change or delay could crop up and ruin a well-planned travel plan. Reading my stop on the platform
screen, I push the button on the carriage door to open it, and can’t help noticing the sparse number of passengers through the windows.
Though I’m not surprised; every time I’ve made this trek I’ve found the train oddly empty, both due to how long-distance the journey is,
and for how modern the train is. Stepping inside, I wander into the near-empty coach and make myself comfortable at a window seat at a
table. I put my bag down in the seat next to mine, my phone near me on the open table, and my elbow on the edge of the window frame. Leaning
my cheek against my closed hand, I hear the familiar whistle from the conductor, this time a younger man, and moments later I watch the
surroundings outside begin to move.
As the minutes pass, and as the train picks up speed, I watch the skyline shift from various suburban and rural landscapes, before settling
on a vast sunny hillside. Houses and villages dot the horizon, with some coastline visible when the train tracks gain altitude, though
admittedly it can be hard to make out when it blends with the blue of the sky. As I settle into the long journey ahead of me, I feel my body
start to sink into the upholstery in the seat. Looking off into the shifting greenery, my eyes start to flutter, struggling to stay open,
and feel myself dozing off into a peaceful nap.