My commute to work and back is usually pretty uninteresting, but today’s was marginally different, in a way that was only interesting to me at that moment in time.  

My usual train home is waiting for me at platform 17. As the train starts from here I usually get a seat, and I carefully plan where I sit so that I’m not next to any weirdos.  After a day at work, myself and 99% of the other commuters on this train just want to go home with no surprises. 

Anyway, I get to platform 17 but there is no train. The platform was full of other commuters staring blankly at the train timetable.

At a second glance it looks like the platform has been changed to platform 16, and will be running 10 minutes late. That’s ok, I can live with that.  We all get on and strategically take our seats.  But the screen inside the train says this is actually going straight to Shenfield.  

Which signage should we follow? Nobody knows.  Everybody, barring a few people outside keeping their faith in platform 17,  stay in their seats, looking around at each other for some kind of leadership.  This is usually a good time for the train tannoy to announce which stations we are going to, but it’s deathly silent. To our dismay it was clear that we were on our own.

The woman next to me then asked if our train was going to Paddington.  I had to take a double take as Paddington is in the complete opposite direction, and wasn’t signposted Sheree.  Anyway I told her she had to get on a different train, and the passenger opposite (a gentleman with glasses) backed me up and said this was indeed the wrong train, this was the Essex Line. She said thank you and left.  So many people think British people don’t help out strangers, but I think the only people who say that are those who never go out.  Unless there’s a Black Friday event, people are always helping each other.

I was however concerned that the gentleman with glasses said this was the Essex Line, as that meant I wasn’t on the correct train after all.  I could have asked him for clarification, but he was back to reading his newspaper, and I was feeling introverted.  So I got off the train to check the timetables again.

None of the signage had changed, but I didn’t want to get on in the same place, just incase he peered down at me from his newspaper, so I walked a few carriages down and took another seat.

Soon enough a train pulls up to platform 17.  I look round at my fellow passengers.  Do we stay or do we go?  Endless possibilities go through my head (actually, it was just 2 or 3). Which train, if any, is going to my destination?

Some people do get on the other train, but I stay.  Suddenly the tannoy blasts out “this train is ready to leave, please mind the doors”.  The people who got off were now in 2 minds. Some came back, but others I guess were tired of the back and forth. I think overall we were just tired and wanted to go home. It would have been nice if the driver announced which stations we were going to, but I was just happy to be on the move.

The doors closed, the wheels started turning, and I could sense everybody’s relief we were on the move.  Was I on the right train?  Maybe, but I couldn’t possibly say.  After all, some of the best endings are ambiguous.