Great Stories of Humor - On Travel By Train - J.B. Priestly (Abridged and Simplified)

Great Stories of Humor - On Travel 
By Train - J.B. Priestly 

(Abridged and Simplified)

Away from his home and social environment, an Englishman suddenly becomes an entirely different person, suddenly revealing the passions and emotions lying hidden beneath his outward coldness. 

Normally I am quiet, neighborly and peaceful. But in a railway carriage I become possessed by a host of devils of wrath and is ready to commit murder at the sight of some gentle fellow - passenger.

                            

There is one type of traveler that never fails to rouse my quick hatred. She is a large, middle - aged woman, with a rasping voice and a face of brass. 

She loves to invade smoking compartments to deprive comfort of the smokers. She bustles into the compartment with a heavy load of packages of all shapes and sizes. She will glare defiantly about until someone gives up his seat. She often carries some dirty whining dog which is one degree less offensive than her. 

From the moment she enters into the compartment there will be no peace there. But there will be only simmering hatred, dark looks and muttered threats everywhere. Courtesy and modesty died in the world of travel when she began her first journey. But people of her type are likely to face danger any moment, for there are strong men to teach her a lesson.

                             

There are other types of railway travelers, not so offensive as the above, which combines all the bad qualities, but still annoying in a varying degree to most of us. Of these others I will enumerate one or two of the commonest. 

First, there are the people who bring all their chattels and household utensils and parcel them up in brown paper, not using boxes and trunks. After loading these things in they will throw in baskets of fruits and flowers to the misery of everyone in the compartment. 

Then there are the simple folk who are for ever eating and drinking in railway carriages. They will talk with their mouths full, scattering crumbs over the trousers of old gentlemen. Sometimes they will peel and eat bananas with astounding quickness that people who watch them become nervous and try to seek some other compartment to escape from such horrible sight.

Some children are bad travelling companies. They will do nothing but whimper and howl throughout a journey, or they will spend time smearing their faces with chocolate or trying to climb out of the window. And the cranks are always with us. They insist on windows being open on a cold day and shut in the sultriest season.

                                

More to my taste are the innocents who always find themselves in the wrong train. They do not have the understanding necessary to fathom the time-tables. They will also not ask the railway officials for advice. They climb into the first train that comes. 

For instance, they will climb into a train proceeding to Edinburgh when their destination will be Bristol. Then, as the train moves, they will pitiably enquire if they are in the right train. Puzzled and disillusioned, they have to be bundled out at the next station. 

I have often wondered if these simple voyagers ever reach their destinations, for it is possible that in the process of being shot from station to station, line to line there will be nothing mortal left of them.

Above all other railway travelers, I envy the might sleepers, descendants of the seven of Ephesus. Their sweet oblivion is enviable. They have Lethe at their command. No dull, empty train journey, by day or night, has any terrors for them. 

If it were a long journey, they compose themselves and in a moment go to sleep. While their fellow passengers spend time blankly staring out of the window or counting over fingers, they probably are enjoying splendid adventures of dream. They wake up only two minutes from their destination. 

They rub their eyes, stretch themselves, collect their baggage and peering out of the window, murmur 'My station, I think'. A moment later they go out, alert and refreshed. They are Lords of travel, leaving us to our boredom.

                                 

Seafaring men make good companions on a railway journey. They are always ready for a nine and a crack with any man, and there is usually some entertaining matter in their latk. But they are not often met with away from the coast towns. 

The confidential stranger is rarely seen in the English railway carriage. His company is unavoidable on the continent and believe, in America. When a sailor does make an appearance in an English carriage, he is usually dull and bores his companions with the unending story of his life or some dull favorite topic of his.

                                  

There is one more type of traveler that must be mentioned here, if only for the guidance of the young and simple. He is usually an elderly gentleman, neatly dressed. but a little tobacco - stained and always seated in a corner. 

He opens the conversation by pulling out a gold hunter and remarking that the train is at-least three minutes behind time. He needs only the slightest encouragement to talk. His talk will be all of trains. As some men discuss their friends or hobbies, so he talks of trains, their history, their quality and their fate. 

He is through with the time - tables. He seems to have spent days and nights in railways carriages. The greatness of his subject fires his eloquence. Now he wails over a missed connection or a departed hero of trains. 

Now he glorifies a non-stop express or a wonderful run to time. His voice is passionate and masterly. His talk will infect the fellow passenger with passion.

                                   

Beware of the elderly gentleman who sits in the corner of the carriage and says that the train is two minutes behind time, for he is the Ancient Mariner of railway travelers holding one with his glittering eyes.

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