clang clang went the trolley, ding ding went the bell

I've been working, YAY! And with that, I've been taking a lot of buses and trains. This past week I've been going to the Keith Maine Centre which is situated within a State Park up north of the river, and it takes about 2 hours to get there, and 2 hours to get back (thank heavens that I didn't have to be there until 9 am). 

My trip consists of a twenty minute bus ride, a 70 minute train ride, and then a coworker and I share a drive for thirty minutes more before we get there. I usually spend my time listening to music or talk radio on my mobile and sometimes sneak in some general people watching ... but it can be a little awkward on the train, because the seats face one another (so other people are watching right back at you ... kind of like trying to people watch in an elevator), and if you're not in a seat, and standing, you've got two different sets of people staring at your waist. But I've gotten pretty good at still sneaking in the people watching. 

It seems like there are always a wide assortment of characters that travel with me. There's the suave young professional ... who wears fitted gray slacks, a light 'salmon' colored shirt, and tie, with bright polished pointed black shoes, while reading the latest on their IPad, most of them look like models who've escaped from a GQ "Business" shoot (I'm not kidding either, they all look like they come from central casting). There's the slightly older professional, who wears a full suit, a clunky expensive looking watch, and reads the paper, never lifting his eyes off the page, bits of gray salting his hair almost as much as his light aftershave salts the air. There's always at least one elderly woman, dressed in fine, pressed clothes, and holding a feminine sun hat and large purse in her lap, a gentle smile waiting at the corner of her mouth whenever her eyes meet with someone else's. The middle aged woman absolutely engrossed in a thick book with pictures of virile young men on the cover embracing scantily clad women with long waist length hair. The hoards of school aged teenagers, who fill the cars with satchels, black school shoes, about five or so different uniform variations, and the giggles and laughter of youth.  And of course, the ever present backpackers and hippies. Nose ring, barefeet, singlet, and yoga pants, the groups only really differentiated by the presence of a backpack. 

Once I was on the train, and a young woman (mid twenties or so) on a motorized wheelchair came on board (the kind that you direct with a joy stick), with some Transperth Staff assistance. She thanked the staff member for the help in getting her on the train, and the people around her for making sure that there was room for her. Once we were on our way, she decided she wanted her mobile. At which point, she stood up, and walked behind her wheelchair looking through the things that were hung on the back. Eyes stared with absolute awe, and some slightly naive disgust as she walked around her motorized wheel chair. I almost busted out laughing as I watched the expression of one man dressed in a construction worker uniform, as he looked on mouth slightly agape, and eyes the size of grapefruits. 

Or one time, I was on the bus, and a woman in her sixties was talking to a handsome young man in his twenties. They were strangers, and she kept telling him how handsome he was, and asking about the girlfriend that he must "surely" have. The guy was really cool about it,  seemingly more flattered than creeped out, and seemed to really enjoy talking with her, until he had to get off (in front of a gym ... haha, oh but of course!), and the woman flirtatiously said goodbye to him. 

My favorite though, has to be a guy who came on the train at Claisebrook and got off in the city. He was holding a guitar and sat immediately across from me. He raised the guitar to his lap and gently began strumming the strings before deciding to just go for it, and began flat out playing the guitar on the train in front of me. I took my ear phones out of my ears (why listen to the radio, when you've got a live show). He never looked up from his guitar. He was so engrossed in his music. And he played until the train doors opened in the city and he jumped up from his seat and left. 

You don't get to have these stories if you're driving!! ;) 

Next week I start working in the houses ... phew! We'll see what that's like! ;)