Ok ok . . . I know,
I haven’t blogged in while (*coughs * 10 months) Yeeees, I know your lives have been on hold waiting for the next instalment of my
tragic awesome Aussie life – well you can get moving again people because I am back . . . .
Sorta- Hell, I’m not even going to try and fill you in on the last almost year. We’ll just sweep that under the carpet and let’s all move on shall we? Cool? . . .Cool!
So some of you avid theonlywayismelbourne followers (mum), will know that since moving Down Under I have embarked on a whole new career. Yup, since qualifying as a Personal Trainer (I think it deserves capitals) last year, I can now call myself a ‘Fitness Professional’ WOOP!
Given that I am now a fitness professional, there is a requirement of continual education in order to stay on top of new industry standards, research etc and I attended one of these a couple of days ago. . . I haven’t been able to bring myself to write about it until now however – for shame.
The course itself was fine – awesome in fact.
It was the journey to the course that I am taking about (not the spiritual ‘I’ve been on such a journey’ ) but the actual physical journey.
Now since being in Australia I’ve never had cause to head into the city in rush hour. So I’ve always been under the impression that it is nothing like my horrendous journeys to work when I was living in London. 8am trying to extricate your head out of someone’s smelly armpit on the tube was never my idea of fun. Melbourne, I thought, will be a whole lot different, an overground train, more refined and; Australia is massive so obviously less people and lots of seats available – obviously!
No not obviously.
I arrived at the station to be met with a mass of people 6ft deep, waiting to get on the train. 1 train was missed as there were too many people so I wait patiently inching my way forward ready for the next one. The next one comes – boom I’m on baby. . .
Well, I’m on but my backpack? . . . not so much. (note to self take backpack off back prior to boarding the train to avoid a mild strangulation emergency door alarm on the train situation – yes that was me sorry!) you’d think the doors would just open and let me pull my bag in and off we go on our merry way – you’d think wouldn’t you.
You see, the train doors are this weird half electric half manual doors so instead of the doors opening and me pulling my bag inside, the doors closing and us being on our way, instead there took 3 men to manually yank the doors apart with the alarms going off and a million people armpit to cheek on the train being elbowed by the men trying to open the train doors with little old me – stuck in the middle completely unable to move until the chivalrous men freed me from my train door prison! Oops.
Anyhoo doors finally prised open, alarm stopped, me red faced, sweaty and embarrassed and the train continued on its journey. No more drama . . .
This is me of course there was drama.
So as we reach each station some people get off, more people get on and the train gets even busier. I somehow managed to find myself a little nook by the side of the door and a handy rail to hold on to. Relatively out of the way and no trouble to anyone.
The train stops at the next station, some people get off, more get on you know the drill and people squeeze against each other trying to make themselves as small and thin as they can to make room. They squeezed against everything, the windows, the doors, the chairs and the hand rails, the hand rails that I was holding on to at precisely chest height. A rather ample lady had managed to squeeze herself onto the train and her ample bosom was now pressed rather snugly right onto my hand! I won’t lie it was uncomfortable. So, how to deal with this thought I,
A) To style it out – never make eye contact and pretend all is normal until I can get the hell off the train and wash my breasty hand?
B) To politely tap her with my free hand “excuse me madam I don’t know if you have realised but, funny story, I appear to be feeling you up”
So I figured, as the train moved and people shifted about for better positions I would, as surreptitiously as possible, slowly, slowly millimetre by millimetre; attempt to move my hand, just enough that I wasn’t copping a feel.
So it began, and as we started to move it was almost as though she was aware that my hand was on her breast as she shifted slightly to allow me room to manoeuvre my hand 90 degrees to begin the achingly slow process of extrication.
All was going well, but then . . .
Just as my hand turned, the train came to a screeching halt and threw everyone forward, including the lady who was so nearly free of my groping hand and over she fell, her right breast landing squarely in the palm of my upturned hand.
I could have honked and squeezed for the jolly japes you know but instead for the rest of the journey we travelled in silence, no eye contact just my hand holding on to her boob like I was about to milk it, everyone squashed together, literally unable to move my hand – there was no where to go, nowhere to hide just a lot of eye contact avoidance, and feigned nonchalance.
And then the journey ended, we exited the train and with one lingering glance breasty girl was gone and my hand was free!
Public transport is not for me. I’ll stick to driving!