Hell really is rude commuters
Robert Winston has taken public action against a rude commuter – and Rowan Pelling is on board
Road rage has nothing on the incandescent flare of train rage. When a driver cuts you up on the motorway it’s a fast-moving offence, but on the train you have to sit and endure disgraceful behaviour until your journey’s at its bitter end. So I have sympathy for Professor Robert Winston, who tweeted his outrage this week about a fellow commuter speaking loudly and drearily on her mobile for a full hour, rather than chatting to the child accompanying her (and left the train still glued to her phone). Winston took his revenge by tweeting a photo of the culprit and was duly accused of bad manners for invading someone’s privacy.
I completely understand why Prof Winston issued his citizen’s penalty for obnoxious behaviour. In the absence of sheriffs (ie, conductors), concerned bystanders have to pin on the lawman’s badge to try to see etiquette is imposed. I find myself taking on this role more and more as I turn 50.
The day before Prof Winston’s encounter, I had my own fit of commuter outrage on a Cambridge express train to King’s Cross. I was running late, so was glad to spy empty seats in the front carriage. There was, however, one major problem. A young woman had walled herself into a table and four spaces by placing big bags everywhere. There were a few spare seats across the way, but then I would be squeezing the polite travellers who hadn’t spread their luggage so selfishly. So I asked politely if the millennial would mind if I joined her. She glared and said: “There’s a seat over there,” pointing across at her neighbours.
I said: “Yes, but then there will be three people and their paraphernalia on one side and just you and your luggage over here. Why don’t I move some of your stuff for you [pointing at the empty luggage rack over her head] so we can all spread out?” She replied: “Why not walk up the train?”
I was flabbergasted: “So you won’t move a thing?” She shook her head. So I turned to the people on the other side of the carriage and said: “I apologise for making you budge up. It seems this young lady and I have very different ideas about what constitutes good manners.”
I rather enjoyed the rest of the journey as I posted details of the exchange on Facebook (40 supportive messages detailing similar encounters and 168 likes), with regular updates. Most satisfying of all, at the journey’s end I stood up and said: “Can I help you with your luggage?”
If killing with courtesy sounds petty, I would protest I genuinely feel this is how the world ends: with endemic thoughtlessness and people bricking themselves in against the rest of humanity. There’s only one response: more painstaking civilians must do their level best to enforce basic standards of courtesy.
So as it’s clear many people don’t have a clue, here’s my own three-point guide to commuter etiquette:
Be seat-smart
It’s fine to put a brolly or small bag on your neighbouring seat if there are lots of spares, but it’s never acceptable for one person to seize many seats and bag-spread. The best reaction is saying: “Your luggage didn’t buy a ticket for that seat, so I’m moving it.” Putting your feet on the opposite chair is similarly verboten – you should offer to wipe your own feet on the culprit’s jeans. It’s also kind to move so a mother and child or loved-up couple can sit together.
Don’t be a noise nuisance
You can talk quietly on your mobile if no one’s sitting next to you, but keep it brief. If other passengers are in your close vicinity, then move to the space near the doors for the call’s duration. The best way to tackle people with no sense of volume control is to pick them up on details of their deadly dull conversation: “I’m sorry your mother’s having problems with gallstones. Perhaps I could tell you in some detail about my haemorrhoids?”
I do know a man who once grabbed a mobile from a yelling salesman and chucked it out of the train window, to resounding cheers from fellow travellers. Be considerate when jawing with travelling companions: one person’s hot gossip is their fellow commuter’s Talk Radio phone-in at its most grisly.
A night train isn’t the same as a nightclub
It’s graceless to munch on food when you’re sitting near other people (particularly hot, malodorous snacks) unless you are on the midnight train, when rules change: and sobering up trumps most other consideration. Plonking down six lager cans is uncouth, but a travel-size wine or G&T is fine after 6pm.
I was on the last train home with a woman recently who made it her mission to scoop semi-comatose revellers up from the carriage floors and into proper seats. In a decent world, she’d be given the George Stephenson Award for Gallantry on our Railways.
Few of us will reach that level of selfless enlightenment. But we can all aim for our Scouts badge in Courteous Commuting.
It’s never acceptable for one person to seize many seats