Public Transport is a euphemism

The other day I embarked the 12.22 train to Colne at Preston station, and sat down. Across the aisle was a table with two teenage boys sat either side, wearing sports jackets and blackened teeth. They were laughing and drinking from cans; shopping bags taking up the seats next to them. Lying on the table between them, next to their phones, was a baby girl. She was quite contented, on her back kicking her legs in air every so often, whilst her father jovially chatted over her.

This scenario was equally disturbing and amusing. Amusing for only one second, because it was so weird, and then it ceased to be amusing. Cue disturbia. I watched out the corner of my eye for several minutes; perhaps the father was about to change her nappy on the table? Which would have been disgusting, but why else would his approximately five-month-old daughter be lying on a plastic table meant for laptops, with no visible means of restraint preventing her from tumbling into the shopping bags or into the aisle should the train turn? No such nappy-changing was to happen, though, and the baby remained in this position, gurgling in wonder at the carpeted ceiling, for my entire train ride.

This is just one example of how unpleasant, surprising and eye-opening public transport can be. I once sat opposite a woman who was asleep on the train; her false teeth completely dislodged and gently resting on her bottom lip, constantly on the verge of falling out and potentially skidding across the table into my lap.

As well as playing witness to the salt of the earth, there is also the infuriating delays as well as having no clue when a bus is going to come, if at all. Also, all buses smell of dogs. Or the people on buses, even if they don't look like a dog person. This morning I breathed through my mouth for the entire twenty minute journey because the man in bleached jeans with a gold ring on every finger and a dusty bobble hat STUNK of dogs. On my return journey, I got to the bus station and saw in the queue for the 464 bus: a dog. And a man who had dog hairs plastered on every inch of his waterproof babygro. I don't hate dogs, I just hate people who smell of dogs. I have friends who have dogs, and they don't smell. One friend has five dogs and smells only of perfume and freshly laundered clothes. I just don't understand why these people smell: do they allow their dogs to lay in their clothes before they put them on? And why is it these people are only on buses? I never come across them in everyday life; only on public transport (which I only use when I have to go to uni).

The moral of this story is that I need to pass my driving test soon so I can pay £1600 insurance to not smell dogs.