Why public transport really is quite poor.

I'm more often than not the first one in the group to start moaning about something, to criticise things, and, in general, I am really quite cynical. But, until now, public transport is something that I haven't really targeted as a source for me to vent cynicism at. Now, however, things have changed; I can no longer say that I am a fan.

Last night I had  a train to catch at 21:50, at 21:00 I have a dilemma; do I walk to the train station? Or, stay at home, have some dinner and get a taxi? Usually I would walk, it's not too far, and I don't really want to pay for a taxi. But, I worked 9-8 and had barely sat down all day, and my feet were hurting. So at 21:00 I order a taxi for 21:30, which would get me to the station with at least ten minutes to spare before the train arrives.

I eat my dinner, get everything ready, go downstairs at 21:25 to wait for my taxi. 21:30 no taxi, 21:35 no taxi. So I ring them to moan. As I said earlier, I like to moan, it gives me great pleasure, but one thing I truly hate is complaining to business, restaurants, shops, whatever, I really don't like doing it. I work in customer service so I know how annoying it is. But, I need to get my train so I ring and he says he'll get on to it.

21:40 no taxi, but they've called to say they're here, but they aren't. 21:45 no taxi, so I ring again, he apologizes and makes up stupid excuses and I have to cancel it; however, he still feels that I need the taxi and doesn't want to cancel it. But he asked me what time my train was, and he knows you have to be extremely lucky to make the station in five minutes. Chester Radio Taxi's, I will not be using your services again.

So I cancel it, I'm not making my train. Wrong!! I find my night in shining armor, in the shape of my miserable Scottish house mate. But believe me, he performed in the name of his fore-fathers, of Wallace of Burns, and, you guessed it, McCoist. He runs up stairs, three flights I might add, gets his shoes and keys, we run to the car police chase style, I consider sliding over the bonnet, but I don't, because I'm not an idiot. And were off!!!

We make it four minutes, we hit red lights, we hit an old man going twenty on a forty, but we make it in four minutes. I jump out of the car, run through the station, up the stairs, down the stairs, and I see my train, on the platform it's always on, the doors are open. Hallelujah.

No. I go to get on the train, "Do Not Board That Train It's Out Of Service!!! Where Are You Going??" screams that miserable moron that is the train driver. "Manchester", I cower, protecting myself from the mighty venom. "Round There", he says, calmly.

I run round the corner, it's still there, but the doors are shut, it's leaving, and I miss it.

I don't blame the trains, I rather like trains. I blame Chester Radio Taxi's. I gave them half an hour's notice that I needed a taxi, I gave them twenty minutes to do a journey we eventually managed in four. And they couldn't do it. Now, to me, that's really really poor. From now on, I'm walking, my feet aren't as stupid as them.