We all have our little horror stories regarding public transport. Sure, not all of us have had the pleasure of (allegedly) making friends with a ticket inspector's boot, but 'most everyone seems to have been party to some tale of woe. So you were felt up on a crowded tram? Some drunk threw up all over the carriage? A guy in the seat opposite pissed himself? Well, sad to say, but your petty complaints hold little interest for me, especially since in all probability it was me that groped, vomited on and micturated in front of you. Prepare to be one-upped. Brace yourselves, dear children, to hear about the second strangest, but easily most disgusting, thing that ever happened to yours truly on public transport.
Picture, an' it please you, a doe-eyed workhouse lad (i.e. me), pure of spirit but empty of head, emerging weary from eight hours at the grindstone and climbing aboard the crowded 5.25 tram home. By dint of my persuasive body odour I had managed to secure a seat close to the rear of the car, and was entering my habitual post-work stupor, when I noticed expressions of distaste among my fellow commuters. The reason soon became apparent: a pair of offensively teenaged bogans, sitting at the very end of the tram with their backs turned to me, each attempting to hoover the other's epiglottis out in a rather noisy manner.
But the passion of idiot youth will have it's way, and such scenes are a dime a dozen; I was prepared to ignore it for the duration. Until, that is, I happened to notice the she-bogan's arm begin to move up and down in rhythmic fashion...
Now, the mind (or my mind, at least) leaps to obvious conclusions. Nevertheless, one immediately reminds one's self that this is a packed tram, it's broad daylight, and certain things just don't happen. Maybe, I desperately rationalised, she is rummaging through her handbag for something. Her bible, perhaps. Fortunately, I didn't have to speculate for long about this behaviour. Unfortunately, this was because I had become distracted by the fact that her head had just disappeared down behind the seat. Again, my reeling brain conducted an urgent search for possible explanations. Had she perhaps dropped her bible? Or perhaps she was just resting her head on his lap. Yes, silly me - I was just misinterpreting a tender display of affection. Except, now her head was bobbing up and down...and...er...
...oh, my god... The slurping noises...
"Dear Forum, I never would have believed it..." None of the other passengers could, either. Red faces were turned to stare furiously out the window. Newspapers were lifted in an effort to block out the sight of the industrious couple. Two crazy kids were busily indulging in oral sex in an extremely public arena with every sign - and sound - of enjoyment, and everyone, everyone, was too embarassed to know what to do. And what could we have done? Sternly insist that she, "Take that out of your mouth right now, young lady"? Politely inquire if he knew that there appeared to be something attached to his dick? People continued to get on the tram, the couple continued to get off; everyone knew what was going on, no-one dared acknowledge the flagrant knob-swallowing.
But wait - it gets worse. There is a popular adage about nice girls (and presumably boys) always swallowing. Nice girls, however, don't go down on peak hour trams. This was not a nice girl. I do not wish to draw you a picture, but if, after reading this, you ever sit down on the seats at the very end of a tram, well... more fool you.
And what of me, do you ask? Well I, of course, was outraged. I was furious. Disgusted.
Why, oh, why, dear children, was I not bloody well getting a blow job on the tram ride home?
However, I am not about to merely sit here venting spleen and complaining about the decline in society's morals. This is not 50/50, and I am more than just a noted social parasite - I am an Ideas Man. Connex, Ventura, Yarra Trams: you may regard this as a note in your collective suggestion boxes. People - ordinary, dishonest people like myself - are dissatisfied by the service you provide. As a result, we vandalise your vehicles. We often regard them as travelling garbage bins, and, on occasion, travelling lavatories. But! how much more pleasant, how highly everyone would esteem your buses, trains and trams if your happy, smiling and decidedly ubiquitous ticket inspectors offered optional fellatio/cunnilingus to passengers? Think how we'd look forward to the long commute to work. Think how much better we'd function in our jobs. Think how much better the world would be.
Thank you, thank you, you skanky, exhibitionist and unhygenic teens, whomever you were. You and your lack of decency have taught me much - not least of which is the necessity of placing a plastic tarpaulin over tram seats before I sit.