Why I Hate Train Travel

Recently I was travelling a fair distance on a train (5 hours) and a group of four people in front of us (our two daughters were with me) took great delight in spending a good part of the trip farting. They thought it was hilarious. They stank.

I complained to the staff of the train. The staff spoke to the people. They demanded to know who complained. The staff declined. They asked what they were supposed to do. The staff suggested using the toilet. They declined.

The farts continued, along with comments like, “Now you’ll really get gassed,” and “This will serve you right for complaining.” One of them had the tear tattoo under his eye. He then took off his shirt. The staff asked him to put it back on. He refused. He asked if the staff members were going to force him to put his shirt on. He pushed a member of the train staff and began swearing at all of them.

The staff members backed down. They four people danced around, thumped their chests and told everyone in the train how bad they were.

At the next station the train made an unscheduled stop and the police dragged the four off the train.

We all stood up and asked them how bad the four were now.

I did feel a little guilty – was I the butterfly in Tokyo that caused a hurricane on the other side of the world?