Monday Unhappy Sardines

Monday is the most dangerous day of the week, whether we drive to work, take the bus or train. We are grumpy, because Monday is a reality check that we must work pay, work pay, work pay and work pay again, till they lower the coffin and priests say: ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

We are like a can of sardines inside the train so pushing and shoving is tolerated. Not on Monday. Dirty looks are the order of the day should you step on someone’s work boots. But he can’t feel it, because they are as thick as a rock in front! Anyway, we exit the train and escalators move the sardines to the top of the station where they transfer to connecting buses or walk to work.

It’s the numbers, so many people but not a word is spoken. I know you disagree. You want to argue it’s normal bus and train etiquette in Europe, Canada and U.S. not like in other continents, where everybody has an opinion. Example. Baby is crying because it’s hot on the bus. “Woman, feed the baby.” That one unsolicited comment results in a hot debate about modern women and their selfishness. They are accused of giving babies formula milk because they don’t want to spoil their bodies.

Yes. There is bus and train etiquette, but you can’t miss the velocity on Monday, because all sardines are unhappy with their lives. They wish they could turn back the hands of time, and swim in blue waters, and not be stuck in a can, called the subway.

Nonqaba waka Msimang

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