The commuter in me

At one with the collective monotony of those familiar strangers' faces.
Day in day out, in the same carriage at more or less the same time (95% DART trains arrive on time*)
Sharing our iPoded blank stares or hiding behind vacant readings.
I know their stations, their newspapers, their MP3 players, their different combinations of working clothes, their smell, their watches, their hangovers, their good hair days, their bad breath days, their shoes, their snores, their transmittable diseases, their destination.

I do not know their destiny, their name, the sound of their voice, their age, their fears, their hopes, their dreams.

We share the same space for 80 minutes a day.

We do not interact, oh no. We are commuters.

Me in the commute.

With them. All alone.



* 90% of all Outer Suburban trains will arrive in the City Centre within 15 minutes of the published time - this not a joke, this is from the Iarnród Éireann website - I sent this to my Japanese mates so that they could wet themselves...