Monday – 11:30 am. Clapham Junction, the busiest train station in Europe, like always it’s full to the brim with commuters.
Getting on the scheduled 11:50, I see – like always, a ridiculous amount of people populating the train. As the doors open, the cramped conditions soften for only a couple of minutes with people lugging baggage off the high step train, mothers with buggies the size of a St. Bernard having to get their baby’s somewhere to the ground without losing them between the platform and the train.
Eleven fifty seven. The train arrives – and like getting on, exiting the carriage is just as hard. I see an elderly lady with a bag the size of her attempting to haul it up the isle. She stand’s next to me – I think to myself “do I help? What if I do?” The doors open, I just walk off.
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