As with every proverbial pleasure in the world, there closely follows a proverbial pain and, just as I embrace life in the skies as my daily commute, my pain factor is administered in full dosage on the ground. This week has been a double dosage and, as I cringe yet again at the wave of perspiration that surrounds me in another train station, I wonder...is the pleasure of a sky-life-high-life doomed to be a go-slow-low-life when back commuting on terra firma?
Most of my friends will attest to the fact that I am not a great one for public transport. In fact, being frank, I rarely succumb to its economical charm at all.
I will happily share a plane with a few other hundred people (although I do much prefer to be up front where the purse strings permit it….who doesn’t?).
Rail makes me frail - trains I just can’t explain, bewildered from the moment I enter the station, worse when I am on a seat facing reverse to the direction I am physically travelling in.
Fuss over a bus? I won’t even waste words - buses just don’t happen and haven’t done since I passed my university entrance exams and left school...
Already this year I have been on 17 flights and, by the logic of my travel math, 17 flights in 41 calendar days equals at least 34 cab rides. Allow a ballpark 20% uplift for casual back and forths, and we can safely call it a round 40.
Yes, taxis are my guilty pleasure, maybe my innate need for speed, but today as I switch on my air-con I really do wonder….is there anything to warrant the bus chase with a suitcase, or isn't it just better to leave it to the experts to flap about maps and get stressed over GPS...?
‘Til next time, Pandora
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