“Love dem crisps!”
“Which ones?”
“Keogh’s chore-eat-zO and cherry tomatoes.”
“Why so?”
“Can really taste the chore-eat-zO in dem. And love da pack.”
“What’s with the pack?”
“Look! See dat. It’s such a happy, smiley, pig. Lovely.”
“Bet the other side isn’t as ‘lovely’.”
“Huh?”
“Bet if you flip it over, there’s a pic of a very unhappy pig with half his arse gnawed off to make those crisps!”
“Dat’s awful!”
She looks at me through the glass. This sultry young one with her long, dark, hair. Her gaze turns to a stare that bores straight through me. Getting unnerved, I still hold firm. I think ‘Ya can stare all you like but I’m not being ousted from my comfy seat!’
And yet, she continues to stare, her eyes widening as each moment passes. I look back, totally resolved not to give up my seat.
Then her demeanour changes to a more seductive pose. Still looking straight at me, her tongue begins to stroke the side of her lips. Slowly, very slowly, she raises a finger to her mouth and gently, very gently, begins sucking on it.
I’m looking at the girl at the glass and she’s looking directly back at me. She’s still sucking the tip of her finger and I’m thinking to myself ‘WTF is this young wan on?!?’ And yet, I can’t look away.
As she slowly turns to the corner, between the glass and the wall of the train, her long hair falls back and I see the wires from her headphones. Her eyes now closed, her mouth gently moving, I realise she’s on the phone and I’m left in no doubt what the person at the other end is ‘discussing!’
“…because I’m afraid, in ten years’ time, I will have grown an extra arm…”
Well, that was a fun trip. Some a**holes set fire to the tracks which delayed the train. Fine. Had enough time to get home, pick up my car and drive to the dentist. Nope. Because of the delay, Irish Rail decide to terminate the train at Howth Junction. Instead of waiting for the next train, I decide to walk as I’ll miss my appointment otherwise. So I traipse down the steps and out on to road – in heels – followed by three young fellas comparing notes on techniques used by their girlfriends in giving…eh…hand relief. I arrive at my destination with aching feet, a sweat drenched face and none the wiser about the three lads’ experiences as I couldn’t keep up the pace to glean any tips (asking for a friend).
“Hi Mum. Can you do me a favour? Yeah? Can you go up to my room and look for a top for me?”
“Are you there?”
“Okay. It’s the pink one I bought recently.”
“No. That’s salmon.”
“No. That’s too pink.”
“Mum. I said PINK not red!”
“It’s like the blue one you like.”
“No. Not that one. The lace one.”
“It’s definitely there.”
“Hanging up.”
“Oh wait… Maybe it’s on the shelf.”
“Yeah. That sounds like it.”
How many arms does it have?”
“I meant sleeves. You know I meant sleeves!”
“No. I am not getting angry.”
“No. I am not upset.”
“Yes. I am grateful.”
“Yes. I do know you’re doing me a favour.”
“Okay. So it has one sleeve.”
“Is it left or right?”
“Yes. These things do matter.”
“No. I didn’t put it in the wash.”
“Don’t you trust me??? Why are you going through my laundry basket?”
“Yeah. Well, maybe I did leave it at work.”
“Actually, now that I think about it. I did leave it at work.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“Huh?”
“Be like that then!”
And clicking off the phone, she turns to the rest of us, throws her eyes up to heaven and mutters “Parents? Pfft!”
“Buy anything nice?”
“Yeah.”
“So tell us then.”
Opening the bag wide, she says…
“Bottle of gin and two litres of tonic. Only €22.”
“€22?”
“Yeah.”
“At that price, it’s probably meths.”
“After the day we’ve had, does it really matter?!?!”
“Have a look at this thing on my chin. What do you think it is?”
“No clue.”
“Ah feck. Have a closer look.”
“Maybe it’s a mole.”
“That’s mad talk!”
“Huh?”
“How could it be a mole?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if it was a mole, surely I would have felt its ickle paws on my skin?”
“Ah, you eejit!!!”
Heading to the Southside for the second time in a week. It seems like the start of a defection!
My fellow commuters this evening are an eclectic bunch. In my carriage sit two glorious ZZ Top lookalikes, enjoying the scenery as they stroke their long beards. Behind them sits the customary bunch of summer munchers with their Beshoff and Burdocks snack boxes. The girl now sitting in front of me has applied a full face of make-up *and* tonged her entire head of hair into neat little ringlets, moisturised her hands and chatted on the phone the whole time. And over these sights can be heard the informative conversation of some 13+ year old lads discussing their sexual leanings and an older teen (a 14+ year old girl) saying she has to move away from them in case anyone mistakes her for “a paedophile”…
I so miss commuting on a daily basis. I so miss my tribe!
So I’m listening to these two on the train. Truthfully, it’s only one as the other cannot get a word in edgeways. The first woman is lamenting that her beloved soft top has to be stored for the winter months.
“I know it’s only a 03, and you probably drive a 04 or 05, but I really will miss it.”
Sharp intake of breath and the other one replies…
“I drive a 162 – actually…”
“Oh”, winces the other. Her car driving status painfully ripped from underneath her like a Bandaid off a 6 year old’s knee!
[2016]
Well, that was a fun trip. Some a**holes set fire to the tracks which delayed the train. Fine. Had enough time to get home, pick up my car and drive to the dentist. Nope. Because of the delay, Irish Rail decide to terminate the train at Howth Junction. Instead of waiting for the next train, I decide to walk as I’ll miss my appointment otherwise. So I traipse down the steps and out on to road – in heels – followed by three young fellas comparing notes on techniques used by their girlfriends in giving…eh…hand relief. I arrive at my destination with aching feet, a sweat drenched face and none the wiser about the three lads’ experiences as I couldn’t keep up the pace to glean any tips (asking for a friend).
Thoughts of a Middle Aged Teen 