Public Transport Trauma
Completely Underwhelmed writes, "I was on a bus the other day when a man got on wearing shorts, over what looked like greeny grey leggings. Then the stench hit me. The 'leggings' were a mass of open wounds, crusted with greenish solidified pus that flaked off in bits as he moved."
What's the worst public transport experience you've ever had?
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 15:13)
Completely Underwhelmed writes, "I was on a bus the other day when a man got on wearing shorts, over what looked like greeny grey leggings. Then the stench hit me. The 'leggings' were a mass of open wounds, crusted with greenish solidified pus that flaked off in bits as he moved."
What's the worst public transport experience you've ever had?
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 15:13)
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Trapped
I live in the West Country. I once had to take a train journey all the way to Kent with a colleague to attend a conference. It's a long way - a good four hours by rail. He and I had always got on well and I had no great qualms about the journey - a bit of witty banter, perhaps a couple of cans of lager from the buffet, a newspaper would all help to pass the time.
I found out about five minutes into the journey - once I was already on and seated opposite him - something I never knew about him. In his spare time he was a trainspotter. He chose to reveal this to me by pointing out that the points we'd just crossed lead north and then eastward back toward Cardiff, and didn't I know that that station and area of the line had the most fascinating history, see back in 1893 ...
Four hours. Four FUCKING HOURS.
On the way home I made damn sure I left early and got on a different train.
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 16:56, Reply)
I live in the West Country. I once had to take a train journey all the way to Kent with a colleague to attend a conference. It's a long way - a good four hours by rail. He and I had always got on well and I had no great qualms about the journey - a bit of witty banter, perhaps a couple of cans of lager from the buffet, a newspaper would all help to pass the time.
I found out about five minutes into the journey - once I was already on and seated opposite him - something I never knew about him. In his spare time he was a trainspotter. He chose to reveal this to me by pointing out that the points we'd just crossed lead north and then eastward back toward Cardiff, and didn't I know that that station and area of the line had the most fascinating history, see back in 1893 ...
Four hours. Four FUCKING HOURS.
On the way home I made damn sure I left early and got on a different train.
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 16:56, Reply)
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