A Journey Home From Home, Pt. 2

As I stood waiting for the connecting train that would form the second and final leg of my admittedly rather short journey home, it suddenly occurred to me that railway stations are rather odd public spaces. Of course, the layout of a typical station is, for the most part, purely functional; that is to say, it makes perfect sense that any platforms should be located parallel to one another along either side of a set of railway lines. However, as a direct result of this simple logistical design, the passengers waiting on one platform inadvertently face those waiting on the other, and vice versa. This, in itself, isn't particularly odd. That is, until you take in to account the fact that in England we are subject to that most typical of social traits: "English reserve". Indeed, in a country whose populous are conditioned from birth to avoid unnecessary eye contact and outward displays of emotion, it seems almost cruel that railway stations are designed in such a way that people are forced to face each other for often extended periods of time. With this thought firmly in mind, I cautiously surveyed my opponents on the platform opposite and noticed that they, too, were doing the same. And at that precise moment, I couldn't help suppress the feeling that I was in fact standing on the front-line of some kind of bizarre trench war, gazing out across the literal no-man's land of the railway lines at an enemy who was just as helplessly immobilized as I. Thankfully, the train arrived shortly thereafter.