SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST - COMMUTE EDITION
commute is short for early morning communal mute despair
Monday morning. 6:30 am. Bus.
Join my festive fondue pot and let’s agree: life is like a journey. Or was is it that a journey is like life? I am referring to the experience of the different means of travel. It’s November, 6.30am and way too early to be out and about. Naturally my mind escapes to poetic analogies to turn this dismal morning commute into a life-affirming ride bound for reluctant acceptance of the fact that it is, once again, Monday morning. Taking the bus feels like an eternity, even though it’s not particularly slower. I have so often taken two trams instead, out of the sheer reason to avoid travelling on the bus. Just because trams are more comfortable even if it might take longer or be the less favourable connection. The bus’ shaky nature, where every turn feels like you’re sitting on the tip of a finger spinner and every halt at a crossing, cross walk, traffic and or bus station feels like the final hit you give a cocktail shaker to separate the two containers – but it’s too early to drink the cocktail, a fucking damn tease. When travelling with the bus it always feels like an eternity to arrive at your destination. Yes, just like life. Things (trams) that run smoothly are more comfortable and at times the easy choice, but might not be the most favourable in matters of time and destination. Whilst the shaky, twist-turned, wacky bus rides might just get you faster to where you actually want to go, even if it feels like an eternity.
And, if you take the perspective of a moment in hindsight, wouldn’t the seemingly longer journey feel more satisfactory, as it would feel like you did so much and life suddenly does not feel short at all and you feel like you have all the time in the world to take more busses to different kind of destinations?
Monday morning. 7 am. Train.
Another commute revelation hits my body and my brain tries to follow. As many mornings I take a train at full passenger capacity even before dawn (maybe all my commute revelations are time related because at this time of day, time should not exist and you should be navigating the floaty existence of your unconscious).
Every morning I ask myself the same question, how do all these people get here so early? How come the train is already full when I get here? Does everyone take an earlier bus to secure the best spots in the train? You know the spot: the window seat facing the direction of travel. And how come they are already midway through their freshly-bought breakfast? How did they even have time to get here, stand in line, buy breakfast and get the spot they did? I barely had time to tie my hair before running out of the house closing my jacket and tying my shoes on the way to the bus. Do they all take an earlier bus to get here in time or do I – just as everyone else doing the walk of shame down the narrow train isle, ping-pong-ing our heads trying to find a cozy spot amid static winter jackets, hand bags, computer cases, iPads and air pods, coffee travel mugs and yawning heads – not know of some secret matinée short-cut to the train station? Who’s belly, head, bottle or whatever to I have to rub to get a seat I wish for?
It’s 7:04 am and I have accepted my fate and the idea that perhaps this is my destiny, this commute is the bare example of the survival of the fittest. Fit being the one’s that apparently don’t mind getting up at 5am. And I have decided that within the unfit, the sleepy, desperate late-comers, aka my league, aka my competitors, I must find a way to be the fitter one.
Strategy time:
Is it better to board the train in the back and walk forward hoping the back would be emptier? Is it better to walk outside the train and look in through the windows in the hope to out run the other desperate commuters and jump in when you see an empty spot? Over my time as a professional commuter I have tried it all, and to be honest, nothing seems to work out better than the other.
Today’s approach is a mixture of the two techniques: I walk down the platform on the outside of the train, just a foggy window away from those lucky, closed-eyed, bastards resting their heads. I walk in direction of the end of the train in an emotional rush. I walk, that is, until I notice the train will depart in a minute. Maybe I am jumping the gun, but I decide to hop onto the train and keep looking like the others walking down the isle.
Left, right, left right. Nothing.
Oh! Two rows ahead there seems to be a spot. Nope, just a sleeping person whose head is too low to be seen over the seat. Keep looking, one, two, three wagons more.
People, who’s approach was to start their search at the end of the train and walk forwards, already cross my path. I step aside so they can keep looking where I have already looked and vice versa […this is probably how Einstein came up with the idea for relativity theory].
Five, the guy who decided to walk back to front, let’s just call him Five – I don’t actually know his name - glances with his sleepy eyes at me and I back at him. We both know what our paths crossing mean. No, not the meet cute at the start of a romantic story. It means there are no good seats left. And yet we both keep on walking, well knowing we won’t find what we are looking for. Take this for strong lead roles in a romantic film! This, my friends, is called hope!!
3, 4, 5, wagons more. I know I won’t find a private row for myself, so I start looking at the people occupying the compartments, looking for the most suitable partner. One of them will be my train buddy this morning. But how do you choose? Maybe here, she seems nice I could sit next to her. I also like her scarf, she must be nice, and, oh wait I already walked past her. I keep following the person in front of me like a baby duck follows its Mommy. 6, 7, 8 wagons more, how many are there left? Time, and more so space aka wagons, seem to start to run out. The train must come to an end soon. And there are still three people walking in front of me. Is this the moment the math teacher referred to when she said I will need to calculate probabilities some day?
9, 10, 11 wagons, four more people walking behind me. The train departs and I wonder, if we all keep walking to the, apparently not existing, end of the train while the train travels forwards, will we, I, stay in place? Will everyone else have arrived at the destination while I am still at the location of departure still looking for a seat? Will I go mad?
12, 13, 14 wagons more, we have officially crossed to a level of inception. This spot seems nice. Never mind, the second person in front of me took the spot. I wonder what the other two people in front of me are looking for, maybe they are meeting someone who’s reserved a seat for them, 15, 16, 17, wagons.
“Can I sit here?” - “Sure”. A four-seat compartment. Already two, tall men sitting here including their jackets, coffee mugs, laptops and laptop-bags. Damn it, wrong choice. I could have found something better. Couldn’t I? Would it weird to keep walking, now that I’ve asked? He looks like a pleasant train companion. Looks like he showered this morning, a well dressed young man and he answered politely aaand he already scootched up his seat – as if him sitting up straight in his seat, would make a difference to me. He smiles at me, communicating he is now ready for me to sit down next to him. I guess that’s body language for “pity invitation to the commute party on wagon number 376”? Alright I’ll accept. “Thanks”
Still Monday morning. Train just outside Zurich. 7:54 am.
So now, one hour and a Newsletter later, I get to my point, the one that got me writing in the first place: Why here? What made me chose this seat and not the one next to the lady in the next row? When did I decide, not one step more! Here will I sit! Was I tired? Did the people around seem nice? Or was it just that the last inch of hope had left my sleepy, caffein-yearning body?
Maybe it was the inspiration for this piece of writing that in the despair ripened and had to be written down ASAP! The moment I sat down, I took out my laptop and started typing. As it, let’s call it fate, just so happened that my lovely neighbour took out his AirPods, scootched back down his seat and (I didn’t look at this face but his body language said it all) went back to sleep.
Perfect set up to write this post and not having to wonder if he might be reading along as I write.
It’s now 7:57 am and I am about to arrive. Well articulated and ready to go to work.
Have a great start into the new week. Love to you all ❤️