The article is my début in Better Than Sliced Bread. When I asked the editors for any guidelines, their answer was ‘anything goes’. However, that much freedom felt overwhelming, and I decided to stick to at least some of the traditions already established in the paper.

So, continuing the long line of pointless observations and juxtapositions, this piece of writing was born.

As I write these lines, I’m sitting on a wooden bench on the fourth platform of Kouvola Railway Station. The bench was once painted red and has numerous inscriptions in tongues of beasts and men on it. Said inscriptions probably tell a few stories, but one really can’t be bothered reading through them.

But let’s go back to the reason why I’m currently sitting on a wooden bench on the fourth platform of Kouvola Railway Station, shall we? It was precisely 5.37 in the evening when I got on a train in Lappeenranta. I happily found myself a window seat, a chocolate muffin, some long-forgotten homework and prepared for a journey home. As it happened (as it was meant to happen, says Kurt), I had no ticket and a 500-euro note. Some change as well, but not enough to buy a ticket to Helsinki.

As it happened (as it was meant to happen), I had to get off of the train in Kouvola, the muffin eaten, the homework forgotten once more. (Some explicit lexis could be entered here.)

There are certain things in this life that are supposed to be easy, such as frying eggs, that girl next door and buying something, when you’ve got the money for it. Yet, somehow, buying a train ticket, a hot chocolate, a magazine, something and anything proves to be of immense difficulty, when all you’ve got is a 500-euro note and all they’ve got is a sorry smile.

But God bless ‘Anttila’ — I’ve got my change there. Which returns us to my predicament that is sitting on a wooden bench on the fourth platform of Kouvola Railway Station. Waiting for my train.

It is entirely a matter of personal opinion, but I like trains better than buses. They’ve got that calming sense of determination, for nothing short of a catastrophe can make a train leave its railway. And buses are those fickle plastic things on wheels, good for shooting hippie movies. Trains are also supposed to be faster, but VR are effectively fighting that principle.

The other topic is legs. Honestly, no joking there. For someone of approximately 175 cm height any bus trip longer than an hour is nothing pleasant. As time goes by, you start thinking about good and efficient ways of removing your kneecaps, ‘cause that surely wouldn’t hurt as much as having them.

And as I happen to be quite fond of my kneecaps, thank you very much, for they are nice, round and rather useful, I prefer trains. Which, once again leaves us sitting on a wooden bench on the fourth platform of Kouvola Railway Station. Waiting for the train.

…

Oh, here it comes!

The article was sponsored by
o The Who – Magic Bus
o Зоопарк – Завтра меня здесь не будет
o The Beatles – Ticket to Ride
o Johnny Cash – Folsom Prison Blues
o Neste Commercial (“Ja matka jatkuu!”)

Technorati Tags: train, bus, too, much, money, rant