The blog entry now at platform 1...
Trains are by far the most romantic form of travel. Air travel had a brief flirtation with glamour but that ended when Concorde was removed from service. All the flat beds, showers in departure lounges and head massages in the world can’t disguise the fact that, even in the premium first cabin of a modern passenger jet, you’re still breathing the recycled exhalations of the proles back in super-economy and still possibly at the mercy of some bearded freak with a sharpened spoon.
First class travel on airplanes sells itself as luxury but the truth is that the huge passenger airplanes of today are really just big cattle wagons with wings. If first has beds, does economy now consist of a penny hang with a beverage cart option?
Rail, however, appears to be getting more and more luxurious. The newly refurbished St Pancras station has the longest champagne bar in the world! Train late? Who cares! Trains mean excitement, spies, the lady vanishes, nazi agents, stylish murders, brief encounters and assignations in the sleeper cars. Airplanes mean not being able to take your swiss army knife on board with you – a problem as it means you have nothing to fight off gremlins with.
Trains are great. Stations…less so. Recently there was some sort of train trouble on my morning commute and during a fifteen minute wait on the platform I and everyone else was subject to a audio torrent of announcements, all recorded. The first was apologising for the delay, the second reminding us to keep a look out for suspicious packages, the third telling us we can’t take bicycles on the train and the fourth making other announcements about delays and then the whole thing started off again! Bloody hell.
The worst thing is that the apology is so obviously computer generated. It’s maddening that something without a soul says it’s sorry – it’s like your VCR apologising if it records songs of praise over the porn tape you put together through recording the ten minute free view on the Hot Channel for two weeks. Even creepier would be if it was actually programmed to feel sorry. You just know that one day it would get into therapy and channel all that sorrow into aggression and the next thing you know you have a computer with a chip on its shoulder directing you to the wrong platform out of spite and laughing. That’s why I’m uncomfortable with anything more technologically advanced than a kettle.
First class travel on airplanes sells itself as luxury but the truth is that the huge passenger airplanes of today are really just big cattle wagons with wings. If first has beds, does economy now consist of a penny hang with a beverage cart option?
Rail, however, appears to be getting more and more luxurious. The newly refurbished St Pancras station has the longest champagne bar in the world! Train late? Who cares! Trains mean excitement, spies, the lady vanishes, nazi agents, stylish murders, brief encounters and assignations in the sleeper cars. Airplanes mean not being able to take your swiss army knife on board with you – a problem as it means you have nothing to fight off gremlins with.
Trains are great. Stations…less so. Recently there was some sort of train trouble on my morning commute and during a fifteen minute wait on the platform I and everyone else was subject to a audio torrent of announcements, all recorded. The first was apologising for the delay, the second reminding us to keep a look out for suspicious packages, the third telling us we can’t take bicycles on the train and the fourth making other announcements about delays and then the whole thing started off again! Bloody hell.
The worst thing is that the apology is so obviously computer generated. It’s maddening that something without a soul says it’s sorry – it’s like your VCR apologising if it records songs of praise over the porn tape you put together through recording the ten minute free view on the Hot Channel for two weeks. Even creepier would be if it was actually programmed to feel sorry. You just know that one day it would get into therapy and channel all that sorrow into aggression and the next thing you know you have a computer with a chip on its shoulder directing you to the wrong platform out of spite and laughing. That’s why I’m uncomfortable with anything more technologically advanced than a kettle.
Labels: Aeroplanes, Commuting, Computers, trains, Travel
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