The Passenger

With obesity rates hitting almost 60 percent of the population in countries such as Mexico and the United States, it’s no wonder that wherever you are travelling, you are bound to come across an obese passenger (also known by the more technical term: fat bastard).

As you can see, my travel woes continue. If it wasn’t bad enough having to sit on another dreaded coach, I’ve now been subjected to sharing my seat with a bloater. Well, I wasn’t supposed to be sharing my seat. After all, it was my seat. The very same seat that I (alone) purchased. Fucking fat bastard. In fact, this reminds me of another circumstance that I found myself in recently, that was just as annoying.

You know when you’re visiting or working in London and you have to get on those dreaded cattle tubes. You know, the ones that shoot you miles into the darkness and all you can smell is the lingering odour of snob and poor student mixed together. And you’re sweating also. Not just because it’s hot, but some bloke with a baseball cap is eyeing up your mobile phone. Yes. The lovely underground.

Well here in Bangkok, they kind of have the same thing, but up in the air instead. So not only do you feel like you’ve been put in the chicken battery pen, you can revel in the beauty of shit and rubbish below you. It was only the other day that I clambered onto my carriage, that some other lady decided that she just couldn’t miss this one (even though they come every 5 minutes) and piled her and all of her shopping bags onto the train. The only problem, was that there was no room and she had a buggy. So how was the child feeling about all of this I hear you ask. Nothing. Nothing at all. Why. Because she had no fucking child!


Bangkok’s Skytrain

Some people.


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