NOT A TRAIN PERSON

There was a time when I was with a friend waiting for the next MRT train. The train arrived and it was jampacked. We weren’t able to get in. and I was not surprised. While waiting for the train, out of the blue, I told my friend, “ You know what?! I am really not a train person.” She looked at me in response to one of my usual non-sense thoughts.

Truly, madly and deeply. I hate the LRT. I hate the MRT. From the MRT-1 to MRT-i-don’t-know-and-who-gives-a-damn. And I don’t care how many electric trains are up for construction. I will hate them just the same.

Take the MRT along Edsa as an example. It has one of a kind elevators. Oh yeah. So one of a kind, they are the only elevators in the whole of Metro Manila that make me dizzy. Very poor ventilation. Doors that can cut a person’s limb off, and let the victim worry of tetanus afterwards. Sudden rise, drops and stops. You might need to wear helmets, elbow and knee pads to get out of them bruise-free.

Ok. Well then. Take the escalator, right? But not all stations have escalators. So take the stairs right? Do you have a choice? I don’t think so. Taking the stairs is actually a good exercise. Not always though. Are you familiar with the staircase in Shaw Boulevard terminal. Shangri-La side? Now that is not a good exercise for the oldies and the obese. Not even for healthy yuppies who are running late for work. Going up that staircase is not easy under time-pressure and mandurukot-pressure. And you don’t wanna be all sweaty even before entering your office right?

Then you have to wait for averagely two trains before you can hop in one. Only to realize that the airconditioning in the cart you got in doesn’t work. And it’s super jampacked. It’s so jampacked you can smell what the person in front of you ate during his last meal. It’s so jampacked you can smell who weren’t able to dry their blouse/polo under the sun. It’s so jampacked you can see guys who have a pimple on their scalps on the nape area. It’s so jamapcked you can feel each other’s body. And body parts. Private body parts. Eeeoow. In fairness to the LRT, they have a female section. Why don’t they do that in the MRT?

Oh well.

So unless it’s really, really, really needed, I would rather take the bus or cab, thank you. I would gladly be stuck in traffic. But very much comfortable in my seat.

But that day, due to unavoidable circumstances, I had to take the train. The much awaited train arrives and my friend tells me that we get in it. The door slides open. Then I do my before-getting-in-the-train ritual. Look. Breathe. Hope. Thank. And pray.

I look for a spot to squeeze myself in. I breathe deeply. I hope I don’t get in contact with a guy’s thingy. I thank God for blessing me with small breasts. And I pray that my next train ride will not be soon.