A Train Odyssey

There's a girl - woman, rather - who I see on the train almost every morning. She both fascinates and annoys me. It's not that she's strange to look at, or, like some other public transport users, mutters (or worse yells). She's not one of the people who listen to ipods so loud people at the other end of the carriage could sing along if they felt like it. (I don't mind this when the person has my taste in music, anyway. If they don't, I just put in my own headphones and turn up the volume, so I can't really complain about other people doing the same. Doesn't always stop me though) But this woman seems to be completely ordinary when she walks into the carriage and, like this morning, sits herself down in one of the last vacant seats. I'd be interested to see how she gets on when there aren't any spare seats, but so far she seems to have had the magic touch in that way. I've never seen her have to stand. That in itself should be enough to get me interested. I get on three stations earlier, and I occasionally have to stand all the way to the city, so how she manages is beyond me. That's not what draws the eye, however.

She has a routine.

It begins when she sits down and strips off her sheepskin coat. Then she reaches for her handbag - not the tote that she also carries, but the small Gucci handbag that most women would use for their money, maybe a lipstick, their phone. But notthis woman. She uses this gorgeous little designer bag as a make up purse. Out comes foundation, compact, mascara, eye shadow, blush, lipstick, lip liner, powder, moisturizer - in short, a full kit. She sits and gives herself a full make over on a wobbling train, balancing the small jars, trays, palettes,and tubes on her lap, applying with her left had, and holding a small mirror in her right. It's quite a performance, and one that I know I could never manage successfully. As someone who rarely wears make up during the day, and never to work unless I'm having a really bad skin day (or, like today, I have some sort of mark, be it bruise or cold sore, to hide), I'm fascinated to watch this woman when I'm sitting near, but not next to her. Its only when I'm next to her that I find it annoying, and that could be as much from knowing how I look in the morning (does the expression death warmed up mean anything here? Or maybe, given the uncontrolled - and uncontrollable - state of my hair most mornings, a hag would be a better description. Either way, it isn't pretty) as from the fact that her coat bunches between her and whoever she sits next to.

The thing that really gets me, though, is that this happens every morning. There is always someone on the train putting the finishing touches to their outfit, whether it's a guy in a suit doing his tie, or a woman pulling her hair into a ponytail. Generally, they do it because they were running late that morning, and didn't have time to do it at home. Some tend to feel that its almost rude to leave the house without being perfectly presented. Not this woman, who clearly plans the time on the train to finish getting herself ready.

I guess what really annoy me, is that I can't work out if its genius or insanity. Is it insane to turn a train carriage into an extension of your bathroom or your bedroom? Or is it genius to snatch a few extra minutes of sleep, putting to use time when you'd probably be staring at the newspaper of the person sitting opposite? The chance that it could be a little of each drives me so insane that I get twitchy when I hear her polite "Excuse me" as she climbs into the seat beside me. So maybe, given how much better it is to sit next to her than the loud obnoxious swearing school kids who sprawl across four seats each, the problem is with me? Maybe, just maybe, I'm really jealous that there's nothing I can take out of my own morning routine and do on the train.