Tuesday, June 26, 2007

A letter of complaint

Dear Mr. President,

I know that you have vowed to change/shake up France, but I was just wondering whether you were planning on doing anything about Line 13. For four years I have lived on this nightmare line (well actually that’s not true, I have always lived on this line it’s just that I used to live on the other end of it, you know the nice bit).

People often ask me how do I keep my somewhat nice figure (I won’t go as far as saying skinny) and really I have to tell them: "Line 13." You see I have mastered the art of fitting into the tightest of spaces and frankly I think that this constant squishing and stress of knowing that if I was any bigger has contributed to my lack of putting on weight despite the constant crap I eat. I have come to the conclusion that I like ‘Flat Stanley’ am getting squashed into shape every morning. That and the fact that in the afternoon I travel by a different line and power walk for 13 minutes to reach the comfort of my home: small and perfectly formed where no one shoves my bag into my oesophagus.

Line 13 has also contributed to the fact that I have arrived late at work for 160 of my 180 working days. While this keeps my colleagues amused with my daily reports of how the ‘misery line’, ‘cattle truck’ and ‘people pate’ has prevented me from arriving on time, I fear my bosses are not so amused.

I know that living in a city means that you have to be slightly desensitised to certain things, but frankly as I and the hundred or so other passengers who battle for that one salubrious spot at the back of the carriage (you know where there is a little niche by the back door), rugby tackling pregnant women and war veterans out of the way, I fear we are actually becoming dehumanised. To make this journey more palatable I need to be plugged into music so that I cannot hear the announcements of yet another passenger passing away because of lack of oxygen. There have been moments when I have been slightly peeved that these people have not been able to regulate their breathing to one gulp every ten minutes instead of the average of eighteen per minute.

So I suppose what I am saying is can you sort this line out. I know that vague promises have been made about 2012, but I’m not sure that I can wait that long; you see that would make me very late for work.

Kindest regards,

Miss Verilion (who now has a champagne bottle shaped dent in her left breast).

15 comments:

apprentice said...

Bon chance! He'll put the fare up though, that's for sure

Verilion said...

Would it be terribly cold and uncaring if I said I no matter because my monthly travel card is paid for by my employers?

The Moon Topples said...

Wait, is the French President really responsible for municipal bus lines? That seems...strange. Don't you guys have a mayor or a city council or something?

And, uh, how exactly does one dent a breast? I seem to recall them being fairly resiliant.

kyklops said...

There's no "metro" here in Miyazaki, but I've had the displeasure of riding the subways in Tokyo a few times. I don't envy anyone who has to do it on a daily basis.
I'm also wondering about the "dented breast"...

Atyllah said...

Are you an optimist or a dreamer? Since when do politicians ever really do anything for the people? My dear V, have you not learned a thing about Earth Politics yet? Tsk. Don't tell me I need to come back and remind you the true nature of the thing? Argh, no, I don't think I can subject myself to that!

Verilion said...

Yes MT we have Bertrand Delanoie who is responsible for many wonderful initiatives such as extending metro lines, putting on more night buses (that still don't get me home because if I'm getting a night bus it means I'm too tiddly to turn on my taxi attracting super power), extending metro hours (bliss more time on Line 13) and is now installing bicycles all over Paris. Fantastic, but would he please focus on the bit where there are more passengers to carry then ANY OTHER LINE and less trains. I was just going straight to the top you see.

And as for the dent ... well it's like you know when you've had your glasses on top of your head and then hours later you reach for them and they are not there? It's like that.

Verilion said...

Hey Aty when did you slip in? In answer to your question I am both an optimist and a dreamer. See I'm optimistically thinking that I am going to finish my reports today, but I must be dreaming because I seem to be spending rather a long time on blogger!
All the same it would be nice if you came back in some form or another.

jason evans said...

As a commuter, I can feel your pain.

Atyllah said...

Hmm, us chickens are known to slip in unnoticed - to continue our acerbic commenting and observing - it's all part of our undercover mission - best if no one knows when we'll pop up - muahahahahahahaaaa...

Human optimists and dreamers are really so sweet, you know, like tumbling into a bed of roses - now, about those reports...

Verilion said...

Thank you Jason for feeling my pain and commenting about my misguided comments about denting!

And Aty, are you sure you're not working undercover for my bosses at the mo. I felt I couldn't come back and comment until I had FINISHED my reports. That's right I'VE FINISHED, despite meetings that I forgot about and then other impromptu ones. Urgh.

Marie said...

I sympathise. I haven't experienced public transport in Paris, but I am sure the worst must be London. I never take the tube anymore. As for buses, well, don't really have much choice. I have to take them. And they are not only packed, but very dirty and smelly.

Debi said...

A champagne bottle shaped dent in your breast? How classy is that?

Me - I'd be more likely to end up with a plastic bottle of cheap cider or a scrunched up crisp packet with some glue reside nestling at the bottom ...

goodthomas said...

I think you need to send that President a shot of that champagne shaped dent -- that will get his attention.

However, if your politicians are anything like our politicians, you may also get a proposition for dinner and a movie.

Minx said...

I live ten minutes from my workplace, fifteen with a school/college run. I cannot imagine being stressed before I have even got to work! My only annoyance in the morning is not being able to finish listening to a new CD.

Verilion said...

Marie thanks for your sympathy, but I agree that London is the worst. The longest I have ever spent on the metro is 45 minutes going from one end to another; when I visit my friends in East London I need to take a little travel pack with me in case I get bored during the hour and a half it takes me to get there!
And Debi, bless the wine club. It's cheap and bubbly, probably about the same price as your best cider.
Mmm GT... it's popped back into it's rightful shape now.
And Minx do you I never even thought of that. When I lived in Madrid we used to drive into work and it was terrifying. The metro is fine so long as we're not packed in like cattle going to slaughter. Still maybe in September everybody else will be cycling to work.

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