Sooooooo CUTE!

Standing at the platform waiting for a late afternoon train from the city when a young asian couple catch my eye.

You know the type: young, urban, uber-trendy and probably studying at one of the central universities or language schools. What caught my eye with this pair was that she was perched on his lap, legs crossed with dainty feet enclosed in a diabolically expensive and fashionable version of the Barta-bullet velcro-strap shoes we all lusted after as kids (they helped you walk up walls don't you know).

What's more, she was concentrating on her (no doubt equally trendy) pink knitting as she sat perched there, looking asian-cute and super cool. Not sure that it would work so well if I tried it.

The last train.

Taking the last train from the city on a Friday night is always a bit of a gamble. As Forrest Gump said, you never know what you're gonna get.

We caught the 12.09 from the central station after a great evening out at a super-sexy jazz club, feeling very grown-up and sophisticated. But all it took was a 12-minute train ride for any of those feelings to evaporate like drugs being boiled on a teaspoon.

The star performer in our carriage was a late 20s Australian guy who was amped to the teeth on something quite spectacular. He was pacing like a caged animal from one end of the carriage to the other. When he got to either end, he would smack the wall and pace around the end section like he had been trapped. After 30 seconds or so he would sit down and do his best "who me? paranoid? nooooooo....." look - but this wouldn't last for more than 30 seconds before he was up and pacing back towards us - hands hitting the backs of the seats as he passed. You could actually see everyone cringe and pretend not to be there as he approached. After he had repeated this three times, he opened the door between the carriages (whoever thought allowing passengers to move between the carriages of a moving train was a good idea must have been on something equally strong) and stood, angst-ridden, on that tiny little metal platform between the two carriages for more than 5 minutes, head in hands, staring intently at the tracks. I swear that every single person in that carriage thought he was going to jump off - I have to admit to being quite pleased that I was facing the other way, insensitive wuss that I am. After this, he opened the door to the next carriage and proceeded to repeat the entire pacing, wall-smacking, chair-hitting , between-carriage-standing process in reverse. We all watched, fascinated from afar, secretly glad that we no longer had to avoid eye contact with psycho drug guy.

At this stage, I became aware that two of the people in my carriage were also competing for attention in their own way. Two young Somalian guys were sitting together, 'talking' (and I use that word in an exceptionally understated way) at the loudest volume possible. High-speed and high-volume, the pair looked to the untrained eye (ear?) like they were having a huge argument...I, however, have seen enough testosterone-fuelled young Somali guys to know that they were in fact just discussing the issues of the day. The entire conversation was in pure Somali, with the one exception, somewhere in the middle, of "are you fucking stupid man?!"

English is such a beautiful language that some things simply can't be translated.

I wanna be a tram driver!

Okay, how cool is this?!

Last night 2 people got shot in the suburb down the road from us (no, that's not the cool part) - one of the guys got shot in the lower back and escaped by hailing a tram!!! I have always had idle daydreams about bank robbers and cops doing impossibly slow 'follow that cab!'-type chases on trams but this is just as cool!

The tram he caught is on my line and I know exactly where he got on - I was at badminton at the time and would have caught that tram back about an hour after it happened, had we not won the final (my first ever sporting trophy BTW! - reasonably surprising as i'm not really an elite athlete kind of gal) and decided to hit the town instead, resulting in a helpful mate dropping me home at some decidedly non-tram hour of the morning.

The best part is that the news story ends by saying that paramedics attended the victim on the tram, before taking him to the main hospital...which is also on the tram line. I wonder if they bothered using an ambulance or whether the tram driver just dropped them off?

And who said being a tram driver would be boring?!

Look both ways twice.

My partner saw someone get smooshed by a tram last night.

Not nice.

I am pleased that this is an entry that is not from my direct experience as I am a bit of a wuss when it comes to blood and guts and icky things (although I have to admit that spiders and worms rank even higher on my personal 'ick scale').

Anyone who has seen a tram on the move around any city knows that, especially in the CBD, they ain't no bullet trains. But if you're in a hurry to cross the road and aren't looking where you're going then, yes, it is conceivable that you could get whupped by a tram. The bloke that my partner saw was doing exactly that - a student type in a hurry to get somewhere; crossing the road and walking right into the path of a tram coming from his right. Result: one person bleeding on the ground and one tram driver, no doubt following extremely sensible company policy, staying inside his metal cage in the tram and calling for help on his radio. No one wants a lynch mob on their ass when they're trying to help someone.

Apparently some well-meaning people thought the tramee was in better shape than he was and tried to lift him up - but his legs weren't in the mood for holding up anything and he landed back on the ground. His head was not a pretty sight but hopefully he was ok - living to walk another day, only this time looking both ways twice before crossing the road.