My fellow train passengers

Two interesting people in my train trip in this morning.

The first was the Close Stander. The train wasn't overly crowded this morning for a change. Plenty of space to stand in the end compartment. This did not stop a well-dressed young Asian man from standing so close to me that every little movement of the carriage made him brush against me ever so slightly. First the arm. Then the leg. Then the shoulder. I looked around at the next nearest person at least two metres away, the empty space unheard of in peak hour, the many, many available grab poles, the vacant seat next to the fat, snoring guy. The Close Stander smiled shyly up at me. Good grief. Sexual advances from a gay man. I turned away, gritted my teeth, and ignored it as best I could.

The second was Sad Dresser. A largish woman was going up the escalators at Wynyard dressed in a pair of trousers and a shirt that had no hope of ever meeting each other. Particularly at the back where I was positioned. Presumably she worked in a job where people couldn't see the bulging pink band of skin around her middle.

Did Sad Dresser know how ridiculous she looked? Thinking on this, I got off the escalator at the top and walked out into the street. I was much distressed upon looking at a reflection of myself in a building window, that owing to me forgetting to comb my hair this morning after leaving the shower, I had a hairstyle that resembled Tin Tin's. I looked quite ridiculous.

Hey! Perhaps the Close Stander thought I was Tin Tin?

And I bet the Sad Dresser was laughing at me.