Once in a while I treat myself on a first class train-ticket. It so insanely crowded in the morning, I sometimes feel imaginary little Japanese men push me into a train that can't possibly hold more people then it does now...but I have to get/jump/dive in. And while I'm struggling not to touch 20 sweaty persons p/m2 all at once, I remember the station wagon passing me by like a heaven of tranquility...first class...laptops on laps, utter silence, room to breath, room to move, fresh air... not recycled a trillion times...
So sometimes I just indulge myself and buy this overly expensive ticket. But somehow it doesn't feel right, I enter with a feeling of utter misplacement. Sure that everyone looks up and knows I don't belong. Knows that I'm just a second class pirate sneaking into their realm, ready to bolt at the first sign of a ticket-collector. And the feeling never seems to wanna go away, not even the delicious seats that curve just right around my back, seem to let me forget... But when I finally exhale, something always happens, like a couple entering with a very noisy, annoying little brat of a kid. A person sitting next to me, wiggling about, sneezing and radiating utter stress. First class isn't what it's supposed to be to me.
I hope some day I will sit in my dearly payed seat, oblivious to my suroundings...relaxed and f...ing enjoying my money's worth.
That will be the day.
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