tears on a train

I was sat on the train about an hour ago, headed towards Dublin city centre.

Window seat, sea view, section to myself.

Perfect.

I pulled out Catcher in the Rye.

When I’m on the train, I read.

Feet up. Classical music. Thirty minutes into town.

I fucking love it.

My time on the train is special, if you want to know the truth.

It’s an involuntary meditation. A set time-frame, no escape, nothing much to do.

No point in getting impatient.

Enjoy the ride.

I was coming up to the last chapter of Catcher.

Emotions were bubbling, I had tears in my eyes.

I don’t cry often, but Catcher strikes some particular nerves.

Luckily I was wearing sunglasses.

Stealth tears.

I’d hate for the train-users to think I was some sort of lunatic.

Out of nowhere, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, do you mind if we join you?”

I looked up from the book.

It was a near-empty carriage.

Plenty of empty seats available.

Did they see me crying?

Are these people trying to comfort me?

Do they not realize that I don’t want to be comforted?

"Sure” I said with a smile.

“Of course”

Look, if you’re not familiar with Irish people, you should know that, in general, we are very chatty.

Catch us on the street, at a funeral, in a library, in the pub and most of us will chat with anyone about anything.

Irish people love small talk.

“They said on the radio today that we’ll get some sun next Tuesday…”

“How’s your mother doing, does she still have thing… with her leg…”

“Peter’s neighbour’s cousin just told me that Margret has…”

Mind-numbing stuff.

As Holden Caulfield would say, it’s all phony.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a bad small-talker…

The idea of it just doesn’t get me excited.

I’ve got no problem small-talking when I need to, but here, on this empty train, with tears welling behind my sunglasses, simply was not an appropriate time to be small-talking with anyone.

You see, I was slightly confused.

Living on this island for over 14 years has thought me one very important thing.

The only place where Irish people don’t chat to each other, is public transport.

Now, I‘m not sure what strange shift in energy is experienced by the public whenever they take the train, but suddenly these strangers go silent.

Head down.

Avoid all eye contact.

Apologise if you accidently brush off someone.

These are the rules.

Safe to say that when I saw that these two strangers were determined to sit within my sacred space, I was caught a little off-guard.

“How are you doing today” She asked me.

Older woman. Friendly face. American accent.

She was accompanied by a man who fits the same description.

“I’m great thanks, how are you?” I asked her.

Be polite. I thought.

If you’re polite she might leave you alone and you can return to Catcher.

That didn’t seem to work.

“I’m fantastic! Are you from Dublin?”

I don’t think she’s trying to comfort me…

She’s clearly prepared to interrogate me…

Thoughts of escape flooded my mind.

Should I ignore her?

Fake a sudden injury?

Get off at the next stop?

None of these options seemed like the right one…

I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings…

So we began the small talk.

If you must know, the couple that sat across from me are from Utah.

Their cruise tour of Europe has stopped off in Dublin.

They’re travelling with their only daughter.

She didn’t sit down with us but they pointed her out to me.

“The girl with blue hair” The friendly-faced man said.

She was easy to spot.

They promptly informed me that it’s normal for girls her age to dye their hair “crazy colours”.

This was not news to me…

I had no problem with her choice in hair colour.

“She’s always wanted to visit Europe. She just graduated high school so we took her on a cruise to celebrate!”

That seemed reasonable to me.

A family holiday, how lovely.

I have to say, I’m amazed by how much I learned about these people on our way into the city.

They’re a Mormon family of three.

The father teaches business in the local high school, has a great knowledge of world history and spent “9 and some change” years serving in the US Military.

The mother comes from a family of 8 children, helps people write their memoirs, has a background in marketing and was “incredibly jealous” of my travels.

The daughter didn’t speak to me or look at me at all. All I know about her is that she’s 18, fresh out of high school, has blue hair and, according to her parents, is an introvert.

They advised me not to get married too early or too late, not to have too many or too few kids and to enjoy my 20’s as much as I can.

Some pretty solid advice.

We chatted away for the remaining 25 minutes of the trip.

I got an insight into their life, they got an insight into mine.

We got off the train together and I walked them to the nearest Doc Martins shop so they could buy a pair of boots for their daughter.

“It’s very important that we get her some Doc Martins” They told me.

I didn’t doubt it.

As we shook hands and said our goodbyes, they said that they were absolutely delighted to have met me.

That was rather touching.

They were fresh off the cruise ship, straight onto the train and I spontaneously became their temporary tour guide for their quick-fire, cruise ship, day trip in Dublin.

Me…

Of all people…

What an honour.

As I walked off, I thought back to when they first sat down…

About how the last thing I wanted to do was expend energy on a conversation that would likely lead to nothing.

I wanted to finish catcher.

But that conversation didn’t lead to nothing.

It led to a blue-haired girl getting a new pair of docs.

It led to an enjoyable train-ride and a fleeting friendship between three unlikely individuals.

It led to this letter.

Honestly, I decided to write this letter because I’m a hypocrite.

I always encourage people to have a “take every opportunity you can get” type mindset.

Yet, I don’t always practice what I preach.

I really didn’t want to talk to those people today.

That was an opportunity I was initially determined to turn down.

But I’m seriously glad that I didn’t.

They really made my day.

I hope that you can take something from this letter.

It wasn’t a crazy story, or a life-changing lesson, but sometimes, that’s not what you need to hear.

A simple reminder to chat with a stranger can be just as important as the woo-woo spiritual advice that I normally throw your way ;)

So go, meet someone new, learn from them, experience life.

You never know what that’ll lead to.

I sincerely hope that you have a wonderful week.

All the best,

Louis