Disgruntled by the rejection from entering the gated bathroom area I resolved that I was going to have to come to terms with an aching bladder. This luggage was going to be the death of me. If I were so rich that tossing the bags aside wouldn’t leave a finicial mark of any kind, well then that is what I would have done. Alas, I wasn’t rich enough for that sort of behaviour and carried on with my spirits dashed and my temper flaring. I feverishly pushed the trolley that carried my bags and followed the arrows that pointed towards the taxis. Getting the hell out of the train station had to happen quickly, for the safety of its staff members.
Reluctant to part with my trolley I ignored all signs that read “NO TROLLEYS BEYOND THIS POINT.” Who was going to stop me? One look at my face would have sent a pride of hungry lions running for cover. I was too tired to care and staff members to scared to approach.
I made it to the taxi area and was relieved to see that there were plenty of taxis from which to choose. I unloaded my bags from the out of bounds trolley and lurched my way towards the taxi that was closest to me. As I reached the door of the taxi, I heard “You must take taxi at front of line.” Of course, I do. Why would I have thought otherwise? Why were the day’s hurdles becoming insurmountable? Was this some sort of test from the Powers That Be to see how far they could push me before I became unglued? Would I be punished if I for swearing at the taxi driver that was now making me drag my screeching, black mark leaving, floral printed, pile of crap luggage the length of ten taxis?
I reached the cab at the front of the line in a full sweat and if it were possible steam coming out my ears. The cab driver was kind and helped me load my amputee bags into the cab. I collapsed on the seat, kicked out at one of the suitcases and then had a forty-minute conversation about London and the Olympics.
When I arrived at Euston station, there was only a precious few minutes to spare before the train left. This meant that there was no time for a trolley and only just enough time to run with the crippled suitcases to platform ten. Why it couldn’t have been platform one, I don’t know, but it wasn’t.
Up and until this point I bitched and complained about having to walk around pulling dead luggage. I had not realized that the worst was yet to come. Running with said juggernauts only had me longing to walk with them. The screeching had reached a fever pitch, the black marks thick and I dare say permanent and with the sheer speed in which I was moving, I believe there may well have been the odd spark. I no longer cared; my dignity had long since left me.
When I arrived at platform ten, whistles were blowing, conductors were yelling and I, with Herculean strength hurled my luggage onto the train. However, just because I managed to make the fourth mode of transportation of the day did not mean that I had time to rest. My bags were stacked high right in front of the door. People were moving about the train cars still searching for a seat, which left me with little hope. If empty armed passengers couldn’t find a seat, then surely I would be left standing for the next two hours. I hadn’t this sort of endurance. Before I could concern myself with being left seatless I still needed to move my bags away from the door before the next stop. I peered around the corner and saw a luggage area, a full luggage area mind you, but a luggage area nonetheless. My bags, come hell or high water, were joining the others. With a lot of banging, kicking, pushing, more kicking, heaving and using the lord’s name very much in vane, I eventually managed to pile up my cases.
I spotted an empty seat near the luggage pile and sat down. I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, my hair was flat and greasy, my makeup was flaking, my clothes had stretched to an unrecognizable size, which made me feel skinny and I was hungry.
“Excuse me.” A fellow train goer was trying to get my attention. “Excuse me ma’am.”
I took a deep breath and bore a fake smile “Yes.”
“That seat is reserved. You aren’t allowed to sit there.”
I sat there anyway.
One more train to catch before this horrid journey would conclude. Five minutes before my arrival at Chester station I started to organize my bags for a slightly speedier departure.
The closer we got to the station the more people filed in behind me. Everyone was in a hurry and I, unfortunately, was at the front of the line. The pressure was immense. As I slowly inched my bags towards the sliding train doors a saviour appeared.
“Do you need help?”
“Yes I do. Thank you.” Assuming she was volunteering.
She asked which train I was catching and then informed me that we only had five-minutes to make it. These details no longer surprised me. Of course, learning that I had to be on the other side of the platform did.
When the doors opened, the lady grabbed the smallest of my bags that still had working wheels and leapt from the train at a full run. She was either making off with my computer and an extra pair of socks and underwear or expecting me to follow. I paused momentarily wondering if I had just made my first(?) naive travel mistake.
“Follow me.” She yelled without breaking stride.
I know it is never a good idea to look a gift horse in the mouth but I was still standing on the train with two cases that were reluctant to move. I appreciated the help but it wasn’t going to do me any good to have one bag on a moving train while me and my other bags watch it disappear in the distance.
I kicked the bags out the train door, scattering the passengers that were waiting to board. I jumped out behind them, grabbed the handles and began to run. There was, as you might expect, a trail of poor language, high-pitched noises and the trademark black streaks.
I caught up with the lady at the elevator where I was able to take a thirty-second breather. The doors opened and we were off and running along a platform that took us across the train tracks to the next elevator. I had another thirty-second breather before the elevator doors opened. Again, the lady sprinted off. She ran alongside a train until there was an open door at which time she flung my suitcase inside and waited for me to catch up. She helped me load my two bags and then said good-bye as she walked off wiping her brow.
I was finally on the last leg of my journey that was taking far too long and required for too much effort.
It will be expensive suitcases from this point on.
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