Chanyeol's Epic Fail (not mine)

I Like Trains... Oops, I Lied

Oh God.

Chanyeol, get through the gates.

The card doesn’t work…

GET THROUGH!

I squeal like a middle aged woman giving birth as I try an jump over the bannister. Stupid Korean train system.

If you spend more than two seconds at the gates, you cause a massive pile up. And I’ve done just that. You put your hand in your pocket too late, or you pull out the wrong ticket, the whole world ends.

“Chanyeol?” the manager yells.

“I’M TRYING!”

We’re on an outing today. I don’t know where, and I didn’t ask. Somewhere.

Truly enlightening.

“SHUT UP BRAIN!”

“CHANYEOL!” Baekhyun squeals.

I’m holding up a whole line of people, and I stick out like a sore thumb with my immense height. Words do not describe how much I hate public transport. Why are we even using public transport?

And then I remember that Super Junior needed the company cars for today, hence we’re left walking the streets, attracting attention from fans and weirdoes alike.

Oh, the joys of being a rookie group.

“Chanyeol, what’s going on?” Kai asks from the other side.

I scan my T-card repeatedly, waiting for the beep of approval.

Nothing. 

Just that condescending ‘you have no money on your card look you are a huge inconvenience to humanity please just give up now’ sound.

“I’m sorry!” I shout behind me loudly.

People are parting around me, splitting like the Red Sea. Groaning at me and tut-tutting away.

Meanwhile, I’m trapped, running the T-card over and over the scanner, hoping to get through. I might as well be Hitler, because that’s how much everyone’s hating me right now.

Business people in their black suits and ties give me grunts of disapproval as they scan their cards in the walkways alongside me, while members of the younger generations, mere school kids, can’t contain their laughter.

“What does the scanner say?” Suho grumbles at me, ripping the card out of my hands.

“I don’t know!”

Suho places the card on the scanner and it beeps once, giving me a green light. I push through, and Suho hands the card back to me.

“Thanks,” I mumble, running forward. We all take the staircase two steps at a time down into the tunnels, because that’s how fast we have to move to be able to get the train on time.

The seats are packed, so everyone squeezes onto the train. There’s nowhere to actually sit down, so instead everyone stands.

“ARGH!” I scream.

The doors are shutting, and everyone’s on.

Everyone except me.

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun shouts. I let out a shrill squeak as the doors begin shutting. People are still trying to shove forward from behind me, but there’s absolutely nowhere to go.

I try and jump in, but the doors are closing rapidly. People are shouting from behind me. It’s full, but everyone of course is convinced that there’s enough room for at least twenty more people.

Oh no.

Chanyeol, the doors are closed.

I’m not even half in. My head’s made it, but the rest of my body is hanging limply out the side. The door is like some guillotine, and it doesn’t want to open up for the rest of me.

“Chanyeol!”

Chen’s pointing and laughing at me in some obscene way, like he’s going to actually wet himself.

“I’m stuck!” I shout at the manager, and he rolls his eyes, hitting the panic button to the side. The doors slide open, and I squeeze myself inside.

Everyone’s staring. At the twat that somehow managed to get his head stuck in the door.

I make my way across to Baekhyun, eyes downcast. He takes my hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Everyone’s still staring. And it’s not like I can actually hide behind people, because I’m at least a few feet taller than most of the Korean public they all sit or stand below, gaping at me with their heads tilted to the side.

“Are you OK?” Baekhyun whispers. Chen’s still snickering.

“Fine,” I mumble.

The train begins to move, and I’m caught between some guy’s armpit and a woman who’s decided to sneeze on my face.

Bet she’s got swine flu. Or bird flu. Or SARS.

I snicker, and heads turn.

Compose thy face, Chanyeol.

“Shakespearean now, are we brain?” I mumble to myself. Baekhyun quirks an eyebrow, but says nothing.

It doesn’t help at all that my elbows seem to be the perfect height for knocking into women’s boobs. A woman grunts and scowls at me.

“I’m gay,” I explain, and she gives me a sickened look.

Well, that went well.

Not.

It could get worse, I remind myself. We could be in a bus.

The carriages rock back and forth and I find myself constantly apologizing to the passengers around me. Once we hit the next stop, a woman jumps out from a seat underneath me, and Baekhyun quickly pushes me into it, standing over the top of me.

This seat is ominously damp.

Brain, no. Just no.

She could have like… had her period… all over the place.

“SHUT UP!” I scream.

Dead silence.

I remind myself that at least trains tell you where the fuck you actually are. In a bus, you’re trapped, with that red button, waiting for your stop but you don’t even know where it is or when to press the button.

“Chanyeol, we’re getting out next stop,” manager tells me.

I receive the look of death as I try and squeeze through the crowd.

I will be punctual. I will get off first and be out of the way. I will not cause a hindrance to other passengers.

Chanyeol. You are a fail. Don’t even try.

Once I have weaved my way through the crowd, I occupy the space by the door, almost tripping over my own feet as the carriage continually rocks back and forth. I elbow a man in the face, apologise, and whack a woman, causing her to drop her bags, apologise.

“Chanyeol! Off!”

I didn’t even know the doors have opened. But I’m on the wrong side of the train; the doors are behind me.

“Fuck,” I mumble, shoving through. I make it out, just in time.

I smile. I didn’t realise I was such a badass ninja.

Suho and Kris shake their heads at me, the latter taking my T-card off me.

“Don’t want a repeat of before,” Kris says, pushing me through the barrier. It takes him one attempt.

One.

Apparently the use of public transport is something that you will forever struggle to comprehend.

Brain. I didn’t need that.

“Where are we?” I ask.

And that’s when I trip up the escalator, scraping a layer of skin off my knee.