I’ve always disliked public transport. As a person without a driving license this has presented me with some difficulties over the years. Not that I’ve ever actually bothered to go through with my threat of becoming a qualified driver; inflicting my neurosis and weak constitution upon our nation’s roads would be too easy I suppose.
See, it’s not really the roads that make me nervous when I’m travelling but more the actual mode of transport. I guess I could narrow it down then to a kind of subcategory within the field of public transport and just say that being in metal carriages is what I don’t like. Metal encasements and shells etc. Being stuck inside awkward tin cans at high speeds, in public places and/or places high in altitude really just isn't me. Call me crazy, call me what you like. I don’t care.
Lifts. Elevators. They’re a prime example. I have no liking for them and I'll usually avoid them whenever I can. Lifts are awkward places. It’s the strange sobering etiquette forced upon you the moment you step inside. You're trapped shoulder to shoulder with a stranger; both of you too afraid to speak or make too much noise or behave in any natural way whatsoever lest the other regard them as strange or invasive.
What is it about those things that makes people behave like that? I mean, actively avoiding eye contact at all times, talking (if at all) in hushed reverential tones that trail off quickly and pathetically and for no real reason whatsoever. Those awkward silences where everyone is waiting to escape where only the buzzing of the artificial lights and the hum of the cables can be heard, no one at peace with the unnatural locomotion or the bobbing sensation in the bubble of your stomach. No thanks.
Yeah those things suck a fat one. I know I know it might sound a little dramatic, and I know I know, statistics will no doubt tell you blah blah blah, that you’ve more chance of getting killed by a stray champagne cork to the eye than die in a lift accident, but I can tell you that that’s little consolation to me. No, knowing there isn’t much chance that something will go wrong, leaving me stuck for hours AND/OR plummeting to a messy terrifying death isn’t much consolation at all.
Underground rail, that's another. Kind of like lifts but going across rather than up. I can picture it now, rocketing along without a clue where you are or what’s ahead or behind you apart from windswept musky tunnels and solid, solid rock. Makes my fucking skin start to crawl man I'm telling you.
Underground trains are similarly weird too. Socially I mean.
It’s the heat and the crowds at rush hour and the weird atmosphere of quiet inside. The rustling sounds of papers and books, of people genuinely doing all they can to avoid each other whilst enclosed together in a confined space. Whenever I find myself stuck in those things, in those illuminated carriages, I can’t shake the feeling of being looked at by people. I know this sounds silly but it’s true. I always get the odd sensation that I’m being sized up and assessed with sharp little studious glances from my fellow passengers that never last more than a few seconds. I don’t like it. They're fucking judging me. They're judging my hair, they're judging my clothes, they're judging my phone and my face and my shoes and my skin tone and my nationality. They're judging my identity and they're grafting a personality onto me that they assume I will have just because of the way I look. It takes seconds but it's happening; right there more than anywhere else. It's weird and it's sad and I don't like the fact that I do it too. I can't help it any more than they can.
What else?
Oh yeah, the major one actually. The one most people will agree on. The fact that once you’re inside, there really is no way out. No escape. Once you’re inside that train and underground in those tunnels you are stuck. Beneath the earth. Can you fully grasp that concept my friends? If ANYTHING happens on there then you are fucked. And not just a little fucked. but FUCKED. Dead fucked. Maimed fucked. Trapped with a bunch of strangers fucked. Flood? Fucked. Bomb? Fucked. Crash? Fucked. You name it: FUCKED.
That’s why I don’t like planes either, no escape from what is essentially an unnatural place for a human being to be. But seriously, don’t get me started on planes or I’ll never shut up about it.
The feeling of unnatural movement is something else I don’t like. It’s weird, I don’t mind cars, and buses are generally Ok apart from being full of people and being just about the slowest most unreliable pieces of shit around. But at least they’ve a normal atmosphere inside and at least you can get out and escape if you need to you know?
With trains in lifts and up in aeroplanes my thoughts go down dark pathways. I couldn’t say what these thoughts are specifically but they’re just kind of there, a miasma of unease inside me that I try to skirt around and stay away from. I get the old feeling of tightness around the chest and the giddiness lurking inside my head. I never feel very far away from full blown stomach crushing panic the entire time.
In order to try and combat this phobia of mine I devised a routine to combat my fears. I'll tell you all about it, maybe it could help you too sometime when you feel a little topsy turvy. It really works!
My method is kind of a little physical mantra that I try to do, it's not like a Hare Krishna thing where they have to say stuff out loud or and it's nothing to do with those money grabbing Transcendental Meditation fucks either. Its an original I thought of it myself. And it works too - well, it usually does anyway.
It begins with me slowing my breathing right down. Whilst I’m doing this I’m always being very careful to monitor the whereabouts of the stops of the train closely so I always know where I am in the city. Next, in tandem with keeping my breathing internal and steadied, I clench my toes up as hard as possible in my shoes. Tight, tight, tight up inside so that they’re into tiny little ball shapes. I try to get them so they’re almost like the feet of Chinese women in olden times when they used to have them bound up and they walked in that funny little baby step way.
I get my toes like that and I then make myself calm by breathing easier, deeply and fully, sometimes gripping my knees firmly and impassively and always maintaing a straight back, slightly leaning forward in my seat. I manage to do this all whilst continuing to look like a typical human being to my fellow passengers – as calm and serene as a doped up 50's housewife.
Next what I do is I try to imagine that any sense of panic or discomfort is something physical like a huge globule of thick liquid or a massive bit of jelly or something. I then push this blob of ill feeling down towards my toes, focusing hard and imagining forcing it down my body and out of my pores at the tips of my tightly balled feet. I really concentrate on keeping my toes tight and I just think about pushing it down. Down and away from me into the ether.
I’ve got this method down to a fine art now; sitting with my eyes open and nothing to show me up save for a thin layer of sweat on my brow close to the upper edges and roots of my hair.
So there we are, I just wanted to give you a small insight into my reasons for feeling so ill at ease and weird on public transport - don't worry, this is actually going somewhere. Let me elaborate.
I'd been practicing this method for quite some time until recently when something happened that that made me reassess things slightly.
It happened a few weeks ago. I’d arrived late because I couldn’t find my train ticket beforehand. Normally the ticket thing is the best part for me but this time it was just a total stress. I’d bought and paid (too much) for it and I’d had it in my hand with my name written down on the green coloured bit written right there in that purple ink they use.
“Robert. D. Arlowe”.
No comments:
Post a Comment