It was the 7.45am train from Sydney’s Asquith to the airport. My clearly white-haired dad, aged 84, climbed on, followed by mum, aged 82, while I struggled in with their suitcases.
The seats were all fall and the passengers fixedly fiddled with laptops and newspapers. My blood boiled.
“Excuse me,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Would anybody like to give my parents a seat?”
Mr Black Suit on a laptop continued to ignore me, tapping away on his keyboard.
Suddenly I couldn’t help myself. I tapped his 22-year-old shoulder and repeated, “Dad has had a heart attack. Is it okay if he sits there?”
Shamefaced, Black Suit slunk away, but I was left feeling dirty for my public outburst, and upset for Dad.
Mum admonished me for disciplining people on the train in the same way I sometimes reminded my six-year-old son about his manners.
“You can’t organise people on trains like that,” she said.
It was probably my fault for taking my parents on a morning commuter train, but they needed to be at the airport to fly back to Queensland after a wonderful family visit.
But surely adult train passengers should have the same sort of manners that I expect of my year one boy.
So what would you have done?
P.S. Thank you to the 50-something woman who offered a seat to mum but I was acting on principle over Mr Black Suit.
