Reprise from March on the midnight train…

“It’s one train before the Severn River tunnel and quite another afterwards, said Ed, the train manager (not his real name) as we all sat in a somewhat quiet First Class car for shelter. “Train personnel from England refuse to work the last half of this train ride for fear of their safety.”

The song ‘Midnight Train to Georgia’ was about a melancholy parting. There was nothing sad about my sprint to the car at Bridgend station after leaving this zoo of a First Great Western Train in the wee, small hours of the morning. For the last hour and twenty minutes the ride ran from Newport, about 30 very inebriated customers brawled, puked, sang, shouted and otherwise rowdily celebrated their way in a drunken stupor few will remember this day, terrorising the dozen or so passengers just trying to get home after a very long day in London.

Because the UK does little to promote and encourage the use of train travel and thus ease congestion on its roads, this trip normally costs about £70 or $110 with advance notice (up to £250 if last minute(!) or a roundtrip flight to most of Moscow). Were I to drive the 135 miles to London from my home, total costs were: (£35 in petrol), park all day (£25), pay the City congestion charge (£8) for a total just £2 less than the train excursion. The difference being I can work and rest on the train’s 6+ hours or sit, raise my blood pressure and cuss in traffic.

However, yesterday’s travel date was known well in advance so I celebrated the find of a restricted roundtrip fare for £28. I now know why. After a very full day I sat down in my late-night seat (I promised the train crew who feared for their jobs, grateful for speaking on the record but without attribution, I would not say what time or which train I was, on but it did leave late at night and arrive after midnight). I’d scored a huge interview with political legend Stan Greenberg and was shattered after a day filled with meetings that began some 20 hours earlier.

The Tottenham Hotspurs football team pitched a brilliant 4-0 shutout against Middlesbrough and many happy fans joined in London for the ride to Reading. English football fans get a bum rap, they were happy but mostly quiet and you would never know they were on board.

These First Great Western trains have four prime seats in Carriage D where, like some airplane exit rows, one can stretch full out because there is no seat in front of you. Unfortunately those seats are next to Bar Car E (Ok it also has food but this night it was the Bar Car because fully 85% of the people passing were beyond inebriated and one step away from falling down drunk.) Hey it was late, they were not behind the wheel of a car, so things were looking up.

The first sign of trouble was a man so drunk he could barely stand. He was not a “happy” drunk, he was a very mean one and cursed everyone who, like me, just tried to ignore him whilst answering e-mail and listening to podcasts. Seated two rows behind me, he had plenty to say about me and my eff-ing iPhone to anyone who would listen, which was no one. When he left in Swindon, I settled down for a quiet ride the rest of the way. Indeed I set my alarm, closed my eyes, wrapped myself and briefcase up and slept for 15 minutes.

And then we stopped in Newport, 1^st stop in Wales after the Severn River tunnel.

There a very loud group of drunks joined staggering and exaggeratedly whispering at 120 decibels to not wake me up! It did not work.

When the “lady” of the group tried to slurringly apologise and asked if I was sleeping, I foolishly engaged by saying, resignedly, “not any more” and it was “Game On” for the lads who decided it was time to bounce across seats and walls making enough noise to ensure I stayed awake. Can one charitably assume they did not want me to miss my stop?

That was mildly tolerable except the traffic increased to the Bar Car and one man stumbling by hit my arm and shoulder so hard with his own flailing body it still is sore today, thankfully a workout will soon follow.

Then we arrived at Cardiff Central and it was once again “Game On” as a teeming mass of drunken humanity poured onto the train. It began with a young couple opening a kebab Styrofoam container across from me filled with a glutinous glob of smelly yick and jointly consuming it in their drunken state. You just knew that would not stay down long.

It didn’t.

As they together went to the loo, he to help her. A middle aged very drunk woman flounced into the seat across the aisle into their recently abandoned seat obviously in a huff. Her obviously rugby obsessed (think 6’ 5” middle linebacker sized for American football) boyfriend soon followed and they were mid spat, except she was not appreciating his amorous advances and they were slapping each other quite hard.

That was my cue to move and I headed up to 1^st Class where we began. The train crew were sitting there and I announced my intention to sit there to which they all said, “no problem, do sit up here it’s safer.” The second conductor said. “yeah that couple was at it on the platform in Cardiff and I cannot tell you how many times I’ve run to the rescue only to have them both turn on me!”

Then we started talking about the ride. The manager, second conductor and beverage service person offered a running commentary after I told them I was a journalist:

“This train is a nightmare. We complain but no one cares. All we ever get is bad press over fares (I looked down at my feet saying umm, yeah…). The police don’t want to hear anything from us. They say its’ our word against their’s and they know they can get away with it.”

“One night a guy was arrested on the platform with a loaded gun (almost unheard of in the UK) and when he came to trial he was not charged with firearms possession.”

“You should come ride the 4 am Saturday morning London train from Swansea if you think this one is bad. One Saturday this guy ran through and took out six of the automatic sliding doors, just ran through the glass from car-to-car! These folks (on my train) are just drunk, on Saturday they are all drugged up. And it’s only Wednesday, wait until Friday and Saturday night.”

No thanks, I’ll be driving next time and praying for YOUR safety.

by Denis Campbell