Trains: The Social Experiment on Wheels

Being a rather pudgy looking bastard, I often have a giggle at fellow public-transport-users who are selective of who they sit with. I type this as I ride the Western Line with the hope that something deeply profound happens. I'm not too hopeful, but we'll see.

I get off the train at Glen Eden, so it's a pretty long commute. People come and go, which often makes the journey pretty interesting.

Leaving Britomart just after 3pm, and the train is about half full (or half empty). Nothing's about to happen. The burly-sounding voice-over man tells us we're about to arrive in Newmarket (I hate the burly-sounding voice-over man). As the doors open with a beep, a group of about eight dawdle into my half of the carriage, scanning the empty seats for the most comfortable option. A couple of attractive blonde women sit opposite me, but I shant be aroused. I've got a job to do.

Next stops are Grafton and Mt Eden, which are tumble-weed central at this time of day (3 minutes later of course the former is over-run with stupid little kids).

With the Kingsland train station comes contestant number one. The stout little student, draped in a sickly maroon school uniform sits next to me after slight hesitation. The innocence of children is amusing, as the poor guy probably chose to sit with me because he found the blonde chicks too intimidating. Cooties, ew.

One stop later, he's gone, and I'm back into 'experimentation mode'. Baldwin Avenue throws me a curve-ball in the shape of a mother with a stroller. They sit opposite me. With me on this laptop, and the stroller in front of me, a barricade of sorts has been formed. My 'experiment' is a shambles. I shed a quiet tear for my failed experiment, in turn confusing the mother opposite.

She disembarks at Avondale though, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Now for New Lynn; a station known for constantly being chockablock full of people, and sometimes the lingering smell of narcotics.

Onto the train comes a good dozen. The males all glance in the direction of the blonde, though they're beaten to the punch by an old Chinese lady and her adorable grand-daughter. I glance at the seat next to me as if to say "Christ. It wont bite", but nope. Sitting next to me isn't going to help them fly up the social ladder. It's death by association. Naturally, the only alternative is to awkwardly stand in the aisle - attempting to counter the unexplainable, confusing act by way of a 'cool' demeanour, consisting of leaning on the poles and pretending to be texting one of your many friends. I'm not complaining or offended really though. I'm more amused by it than anything.

We like to think that people are better than prejudice these days. But not only is that not true, the fact is that prejudice will always be here to stay - be it something petty on a train, or something far deeper and far more important in the grand scheme of life as we know it. Objectivity is a concept from the dreamer, and people are now more than ever are becoming more pessimistic.