A word of warning: never, ever get into an argument with me. I’m not necessarily saying that I’ll beat you, but either way it’s guaranteed that I will drive both of us a little bit crazy. I will, with no compunction, argue that black is white, especially when I feel that I am being dealt the short end of the stick. I will often lose all logic and sensibility to try and bring the situation round to my favour. Sometimes it works but most of the time it doesn’t.
Take yesterday for example…
On weekends and the occasional bank holiday Monday the various companies who operate the trains which run on the miscellaneous tracks which used to constitute the British rail network collectively run this offer whereby for an upgrade fee of £10 you get to travel First Class. On a Silverlink train this means that you get to sit in the partitioned section of the second carriage, separated from the plebs by a swing door that may / may not work depending on the efficacy of the vandals operating in the Willesden and Harlesden areas of North London. On a GNER or a Branson run Virgin train you get lots of leg room, very likely a table unit to yourself, a free sandwich, a cup of tea or coffee, biscuits and a copy of The Daily Telegraph or The Times if you are travelling under the steam of Mr. Branson
Because I have ideas above my station (Station! Ha-ha! Geddit!?) if I travel by rail at the weekend I almost always pay the upgrade and travel First Class. After all, £10 isn’t much money for afore mentioned luxuries.
This past weekend I went home to Bath to see my family and friends and to teach my Mum how to use her new Mac Mini (which in itself is worthy of a lengthy blog post.) Yesterday, at about 6pm, Mum dropped me off at Bath station and I hopped onto the train that would take me back to London.
As usual economy was packed, so I hauled my ass down to the First Class carriages and proceeded to make myself at home by taking over four seats and a table with my iPod, mobile phone, book, newspapers, sweater and hand luggage.
Not long after the train pulled away from the platform the ticket inspector entered the carriage and started asking us passengers for our tickets. Eventually he got to me and I produced my normal economy ticket and my Solo card and asked for the weekend upgrade.
Before I go on I need to explain, for the benefit of my non-British readers what a solo card is. How shall I do this? Oh, ok...
American Express Centurion = Versace*
American Express = Jil Sander
Mastercard = Miu Miu
Visa = Gucci
Switch /Maestro = Urban Outfitters
Solo = Target / George at Asda
* Because wealth and good taste do not always go hand-in-hand
Now, I should point out that I have, at various points in my personal life and career, been in possession of all of the above credit cards, except for the Centurion, which I am working on. I have even had a Coutts business account credit card which would have gotten me upgrades and access to premium class lounges at airports worldwide, but I had to give it back two weeks after I received it, because I resigned from my job.
The reason that I currently only have a Solo card is because when I lived in America my British bank account went stagnant or putrid or whatever the correct banking terminology is for an account which has stopped operating. As a result, when I returned to England, I was only allowed a Solo card and not a normal Switch card because the bank needed to see healthy account activity. Healthy meaning that my account should not go over the agreed overdraft facility. I’ll leave you to deduce why, after twelve months, I am still in possession of a Solo card.
Back to the story:
Inspector - “Sorry sir, but we don’t accept Solo. Do you have a Switch card?”
It was an affront to me that he was even insinuating that I would actually choose to pay by Solo if I was, indeed, in possession of a Switch or any other type of card for that matter. Also I immediately realised that I was facing the very real possibility that I was going to be made to do the walk of shame – ejected from First Class to Cattle Class, because I couldn’t pay a measily £10.
So I did what any gay man worth his salt would have done in the same situation.
I completely over-reacted.
Christopher (completely aware that hardly anyone or any company accepts Solo) - “But that’s completely ridiculous that you don’t take Solo! Besides, I’ve paid by Solo countless times before.”
Inspector - “You can’t have done sir. We’ve never accepted Solo.”
Instantly I realise that he’s completely correct and that, previously, I’ve always paid using one of my credit cards, all of which I recently cut up in the effort to streamline my life.
Fuck.
Christopher (out and out lying now) – “Well that’s just as ridiculous, because I paid for a train ticket by Solo just last week. Here, I have the receipt in my wallet."
As I search through my wallet for a non-existent receipt which proved I paid for a non-existent journey with a payment card that the company didn't accept I realised that I had pretty much lost my mind, but much more importantly, the argument.
I looked up at the inspector.
Christopher - "I'm going to have to move to economy, aren't I?"
He nodded.
Making the most almighty fuss I collected my belongings and slumped back off to economy where I was forced to sit next to some chav who was, while being scum (naturally), deeply attractive in a chav-y kind of way.
Eventually the same ticket inspector made his way up to Saddo Class and asked for my ticket. I knww that the bastard did this on purpose because his smile showed that he recognised me and he had already stamped my ticket when I was in First.
It took every micron of restraint I could muster to stop myself pouncing out of my seat and deftly cutting his throat with a quick swipe of my Solo card.
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