The Train Journey

What a drag. This train journey is going to be at least 3 hours. I settle down into my seat which is surprisingly comfy. My gaze falls on the other passengers. A fun little game I like to play is deducing the lives of the people around me. There are so many unsettled kids in this carriage. I don't know how I'm going to cope. It seems to be an age thing really. Kids are rambling on to their family, teens are listening to music or on their phones, young adults are reading books and old people are either reading newspapers or asleep. There is, of course, the occasional person complaining about their seat. I'm fine where I'm sat so I re-adjust my hat, lean my head against the cold glass and fall asleep.

A while later, as I awake, I take out my notebook and rest it on the table in front of me. I glance around, nothing new; I mustn't have slept for long. My eyes trail towards the window, what a beautiful sight. Several birds seem to struggle flying against the heavy gales, quite the comical scene, I must say. Subconsciously, my pencil starts to etch the features from along the coast. The smell of the sea is so strong that it somehow manages to drift through the carriage walls. Soon enough, my sketch becomes a landscape.

Three quarters of the way through the journey, there's another stop. People board, people leave, as they have done for the whole journey. A flash of colour goes past my eyes. A quick glance up reveals my expectations. Someone sat in front of me. I had really hoped that this wouldn't have to happen. Unwanted conversation. I have an idea; lay back and pretend that I'm asleep. That way I can admire the gorgeous ocean outside without talking. Unluckily for me, he points it out almost immediately. He has to stifle a laughter, brilliant, makes me look like a fool.

"I'm, uhm, Pete," he grins.

"Well, hi, Uhm Pete, nice to meet you, I'm Patrick," I say, leaning over the table to shake his hand. He looks at me questioningly, expecting me to tell him my life story. Fat chance. I proceed to counter the look, almost daring him to tell me his life story. He seems to give up as he decides on looking out the window to the passing birds. I smile slightly as I pick out my notebook again, noting down the smaller details of the train carriage around me.

(About half an hour later)

"So that's when I shouted "To hell with calories!" and ate the pizza whole!" Pete exclaims. I must say, I'm quite intrigued by his story of the argument of diets with his friend. He's actually really funny. I really didn't want to talk to a complete stranger earlier on, but now I feel like we're becoming good friends. We laugh along to each other's stories. I've only got ten minutes or so until I have to leave. I let him know of this, to which he appoints a small frown. 5 minutes later and he asks for my number.

"Hey, you only live like half an hour away from me right? I feel like your best friend already." He says. And that is how I met my best friend on a 5 hour train journey.