For the past couple of months, due to the change of schedule in my work at the hospital, I was obligated to become a poster boy for the metro traffic commuter. That is to say, rush hour going to
and coming off from work.
I now regret my decision against learning how to drive. Then again, even if I knew how to, I don't have the money to buy me something to drive with, plus it was
rush hour. Haha. Next best thing?
Trains.
The first few weeks were terrible. Taking the train at 6:30 am and 4:30 pm is a pain on the arse and I'm sure a lot of people can relate to this. There's the usual bruise, foot stomping, and my all time favorite shove-your-face-to-the-nearest-pole.
As with all things, exposure leads to familiarity. Naturally, as I got exposed to the whole experience day in and day out it practically became normal to me; and so in my usual scheme of functioning, i was comfortable enough with it and began to observe.
I stood there, pushed against the door, storm clouds and lightning looming at the foreground, earphones plugged to Castaway by Franco. I knew there was something.
We are there omnipresent, collected as a human race. In that piece of transport contraption strange yet familiar faces emerge as we are forced to stand together in sheer uncomfortable proximity.
Flesh to flesh. Skin on skin.
Every time we breathe, warm exhalations roll down the necks and shoulders of another in moist caress, and they too take it in. Our hands unintentionally hold on to another as we reach to find a hold on balance, and then ever so slightly, discretely move it away. We move as a single mass of human bodies like a wave responding at each of the train's command. Until at a single defining moment, a specific point in time, everything just halts to a stop.
We get off our destination in a sweaty, nauseating, post orgy relief...and walk away.
I must admit, there lies an underlying notion of eroticism in all of these.
But then again, as one would observe in these train rides: we touch, we feel, we compress, but always looking away from each other -eyes open yet empty- staring at a sharp direction opposite and as far away as possible. Our ears muffled with earphones amidst the hush-hush of early morning chatter as we impatiently await our next stop and ultimately, end it all.
As Franco put it:
On my own
Castaway
Trapped and caught in between
Darkened sky, Tidal waves, But I'm moving on
In these mundane commutes might be one of the last frontiers of close human interaction. Yes we are there, but not really. We are together but at the same time isolated. We endure it because we have no choice. We are nothing more but castaways in morning trains.
