It has its faults, sure, but for now the London Underground is a phone-free zone. Long may this last, I say, if Sydney’s public transport is anything to go by.This morning I had a rare meeting in the city and so hopped aboard the 442 bus. Not as edgy as the 59 down Brixton Hill, and the ANZAC bridge is certainly no Electric Avenue, but I was kind of looking forward to it.
Last time we lived here we were ferry people, so this was my first commuter-hour ride on a Sydney bus. I hope it will be my last.
Mobile phones. Everywhere. Loud and totally bloody annoying.
The young woman beside me was teeing up her Friday night. This involved not one but four inane conversations. The guy behind was doing some serious business that couldn’t wait another ten minutes and there were at least two folk at either end of the bus going for it as well.
A literal cacophony of Australian accents.
This should be a time of relaxation, contemplation or quiet anticipation. Read a book, review those work notes or stare out the window. We all like to do it. Most of us want to do it. If only that were all of us.
Phones aren’t banned on London buses but the loud use of these and MP3 players is, and this generally makes their use quiet and unobtrusive.
A convention that holds among those travelling from the depths of south London to Brixton Prison should be a doddle for the fine people of Balmain as they commute to their ivory CBD towers. Sydney is not London, of course, but while its brashness is a huge part of what makes this city great, surely there are some places where even Sydney-siders can keep this in check.
Or maybe not.
The answer: next time bring my iPod. Fight fire with fire. Noise with more noise. A Sydney kind of bliss.
No comments:
Post a Comment