I have real sympathy for those people who try to get on the train a few stops before its final destination and yell out in an exasperated middle-class way an instruction for people to move down the aisles of the train so they can attempt to board. I mean, my sphincter, which is English through and through, automatically clenches at the sound of someone making a fuss, but by God if they aren’t making a perfectly valid point. After extensive observation research, I have concluded that the main reason commuter-twats fight against a natural dispersion throughout the carriage appears to be that it causes them to be geographically further away from the doors. How else do you explain the bizarre phenomenon whereby the area next to the doors is rammed with people barely able to move due to their close proximity, whilst being simultaneously flanked by aisles that are almost empty?
Why? I mean, has anyone ever been witness to a situation where someone who wanted to get off at a station was unable to do so due to their lack of propinquity to the exit or the number of people that were in the way? I’ve commuted for near-on 15 years, and in all that time I’ve NEVER seen this happen. EVER. Because people tend to get out the way when you want to alight from a train. You may have seen people go so far as to actually get off the train (temporarily) to create safe passage for the dearly departing. That’s because blocking the only way out would be an absolutely dickish thing to do. Everyone agrees on that, right? So why are so many people glad to block the only way on? Because most people are twats, that’s why.
The usual reason given by people who refuse to move down is “There’s no room”. There is room. Several large pockets of it, in fact, dispersed evenly down the aisle. For some reason, commuters finding themselves in the aisle afford themselves a massive bubble of personal space – it’s like a self-bestowed reward for finding the bravery to situate themselves so far away from the doors. And yet when the desperate call for space maximisation reaches them, they look around helplessly as if prevented from bunching up by an invisible force field that we don’t know about, but that will apparently electrocute them to death should they breach it.
Assuming one manages to get on a train that has a bewildering concentration of human beings at the only access points, remember to make your point by barging your way through the hot, sweaty throng by the doors, past any disparate aisle-dwellers and their force fields, right down to the invariably unoccupied area at the end of the carriage. You can even lean against the adjoining door if you like. This will give you a perfect view of the two dozen strangers who have elected, despite never having even spoken before, to stand approximately 5mms from each other, sharing oxygen, body odour, day-old breath, uncomfortable moments when their bodies accidentally touch; all the while avoiding eye contact. Or some of them could just move down the aisle. But they won’t do that. They won’t because they’re twats.