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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"°¥Ñ½"...
I you think the London Underground is bad, you should try the Shanghai Metro at rush hour. After flying for 12 hours. Whilst carrying a 65 litre rucksack, a 20 litre daysack and a carrier bag with a mint chocolate Thorntons Easter egg.
Do this for seven stops packed in like a sardine, only to have to change at the busiest interchange that is people's square, go two more stops to the main train station, then after queues of epic proportions and standing-room-only waiting rooms finally get on a train to Hangzhou.
And after you do all that, after you find your seat and put down all your bags, then proceed to sit down only to realise that you've just sat on the Easter Egg.
The one you dragged half way around the world for your girlfriend.
That you kept with you at all times just to keep it safe.
The one that has the special message written on it in Chinese for her.
The one that survived the plane, the monorail, the shanghai metro rush hour and some crazy ticket queue people.
The very same one that is now cracking under the pressure of your very own arse.
That's trauma. If not for the egg, then at least for my arse (it was quite hard).
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 20:42, Reply)
I you think the London Underground is bad, you should try the Shanghai Metro at rush hour. After flying for 12 hours. Whilst carrying a 65 litre rucksack, a 20 litre daysack and a carrier bag with a mint chocolate Thorntons Easter egg.
Do this for seven stops packed in like a sardine, only to have to change at the busiest interchange that is people's square, go two more stops to the main train station, then after queues of epic proportions and standing-room-only waiting rooms finally get on a train to Hangzhou.
And after you do all that, after you find your seat and put down all your bags, then proceed to sit down only to realise that you've just sat on the Easter Egg.
The one you dragged half way around the world for your girlfriend.
That you kept with you at all times just to keep it safe.
The one that has the special message written on it in Chinese for her.
The one that survived the plane, the monorail, the shanghai metro rush hour and some crazy ticket queue people.
The very same one that is now cracking under the pressure of your very own arse.
That's trauma. If not for the egg, then at least for my arse (it was quite hard).
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 20:42, Reply)
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