vrijdag 16 augustus 2013

Music gives you peace

Using the train for travelling is a good thing to do. It's always fast and you don't get the stress of being on a busy road. And lots of times you can find a quiet part of the train where you can read a book or a magazine.
And nowadays you can even go on your computer, so you can continue being connected to your loved ones.
This time I'm not very lucky with quietness: a family takes the seats on the other side of the aisle.
Father in his shorts, mother in a dress with a big flower pattern and two boys. One is around 14 and quite slim, wearing jeans. The other is a few years younger, wearing a jogging suit. He is very much overweight, so maybe it is not very comfortable for him to wear anything else.

The boys are arguing. The youngest one shouts: "You can't keep these skittles for yourself! That isn't fair!"
His brother reacts: "You almost ate the whole packet.  Now it's my turn to have a few. There are hardly any left." The younger one kicks against the table.
Mother gets into action: "Now you boys don't fight. Here is a bag of wine gums. These are nice too."
She puts the bag in front of the fat boy.
He is still not happy: "It's not fair!"

But nobody is listening anymore. Father is busy texting on his mobile phone, mother is reading an important article about singer Peter Andre in a magazine and his brother has put earphones on his head, listening to his I-pod.
The boy continues sulking and sinks down on his chair; his chin is resting on his fat stomach and he manages to get his feet next to mine. The foot nearest starts tapping on the floor.

                                                         Rockabilly hairstyle

After 5 minutes I have enough of this and drag my luggage to another seat, a bit away from the happy family.
I look out of the window, but after some time it feels like somebody is watching me.
I notice a man in his forties sitting backwards in his seat looking in my direction. He is sitting two rows in front of me.
He is doing something I've never seen before: he is spitting in his hands and rubbing the saliva in his hair.
It's very shiny because of this and he sculpts it into a sort of rockabilly style.

When he is done, he stares with an angry look on his face in my direction.
Only then I notice the young man in the seat between us; he has managed to lie on the seats and he has earphones on his head. His eyes are closed; I don't know if he is asleep or just enjoying his music. Vaguely I can hear something escaping the earphones. He is very peaceful and it is very clear that the angry looks of mister spit hair don't reach him.

I pick up my book and the train starts leaving the station.

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