Sounds on the Platform

by Yasmin Allen-Robbins on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 at 1:36 pm

The train journey needs to be experienced. 

I opt to stand in front of a small glass window at the train station, instead of pressing my destination button at the in-personable ticket machine. I feel an inner eagerness as I stand behind other travellers taking one step forward until it's my turn to tell the face that peers back at me of my intention to go on a day’s trek and return, with the fare paid the ticket masters send back a smile with what sounds like a repetitive response as he slides the light cardboard ticket through a small slot at the bottom of the glass. Ticket securely in hand it gives me a sense of adventure.  

The platform is eerily peaceful as people stand or sit on wooden benches and wait.  They hold cups with covers so not to spill their precious liquid, some like me have a bottle of water. Some grasp their shopping bags while others have them casually secured over their arm, others hold onto a newspaper folded small for easy carrying whereas others hold onto their laptop bag. I am entertained with holiday possibilities when I notice vacationers with their suitcases. 

There are the young lovers showing their affection by holding each other and older frail couples side by side looking out for each other in the crowd. Pockets of young people huddle in small groups whispering with a sound of laughter peeling lightly out once in a while. Mothers with little ones or a baby in a stroller, families keeping a close eye on children as they fidget with excitement.  But there are those passengers that are by themselves, a few with their eyes to the track or turned up watching the scroll of the scheduled stops of the next train. They wait with their music or phones to their ears; some are oscillating their fingers across their phone screens. 

The only real sound I hear is the overhead recording of a woman’s voice giving instructions to which platform and train is arriving, her voice is calm and very clear. 

Then heels of shoes tread across the platform moving in an organized chaos as each gleaming silver train arrives and as quickly departs. 

My Central Coast Line train has arrived, the yellow doors slide open, people more than not, are gracious and wait for the debarking passengers. The carriages are spacious and clean, the blue bench seats are comfortable, allowing two people to sit or with the back flipped two seats can face each other offering a group to converse back and forth. I prefer to sit at the end of the carriage where the stairs go either up or down, there is a grouping of three seats on each side of the inside doors. The large windows are perfect to watch the beauty of the trip pass by without obstruction. I can people-watch and it’s a little more private and usually quieter. 

The whistle blows and I hear the recorded voice of a man say, “Doors are closing, please stand clear.” 

The air is quiet it’s hushed with energy of "thinking"; no one speaks as they settle down. 

I am off on another adventure.