TEFL vs. TfL
When future interviewers ask me what drove me to emigrate, I’ll say “Transport for London”. It’s by far the most expensive public transport system in the world, and yet also one of the worst of any major capital. My local tube stop has the misfortune of being located on the Hammersmith and City Line - a line so bad that even a friend of mine who lives in Hammersmith and works in the City refuses to use it to travel between the two, despite it appearing to have been custom built for this purpose.
I’ve been collecting excuses given for late trains at my local station ever since I heard the circular, “We apologize for the delay, it’s due to an earlier delay” - no doubt made by an announcer who believed the universe to be supported by an infinite regress of turtles. This was soon topped by, “We apologize for the delay, it’s due to a lack of trains”. That’s like going to a restaurant and being told, “I’m afraid we can’t serve you that dish, sir, we don’t have any food”. Well get some! You’re a train company, for goodness’ sake - having trains is surely an essential prerequisite when starting such an enterprise. Another announcer with a penchant for tautology perfected this into, “We apologize for the delay, it’s due to the lateness of trains”. These people could have saved themselves some brain hurt and just said, “We’re sorry for the delay, it’s because we’re crap”. By the time all the passengers would have finished laughing a train might have arrived.
One of the more mystifying - and disturbingly frequent - announcements is, “We apologize for the delay, it’s due to a person under a train”. Who are these people who choose to death-by-train when lethal kebabs are so much more readily available and tastier? And if they must kill themselves using public transport why pay to go underground when you can walk in front of a bus for free? Perhaps they were delayed commuters who flung themselves onto the rails out of sheer frustration. Or perhaps they simply got bored and decided to walk to the next station. A tube train was probably the last thing they expected to see - and, in a sense, they’d be right.
Even when a train does appear it’s no guarantee that it’s then going to go anywhere if you’re at Edgware Road. When my life flashes before my eyes on my deathbed a significant proportion of it will be images of me sitting at Edgware Road waiting for the train to leave. I used to have fantasies of having Metronet executives pulled apart by four London buses tied to each limb, just to show them what a powerful thing transport can be when it actually moves. Not that any of this will be my concern when I’m sipping a cocktail on a cruise ship, of course. Consider the worst-case scenarios: if a tube train breaks down you’re trapped underground; if a plane breaks down you die; if a cruise ship breaks down it just turns into a luxury hotel. I know which one I’m choosing.
The Great Escape
Things had come to a head, financially speaking, in London. My father was charging me an exorbitant weekly rent to stay at home that would have paid for six weeks in a central Buenos Aires flat. Transport and mobile costs were higher than they’ve ever been, and, of course, London food was as cheap as it was fresh. I’d spent the remainder of my loan on a music tuition website that wouldn’t attract any new students without advertising, but I couldn’t pay for advertising without getting more students first. In addition the piano shop where I was working part-time was going bust just as my loan repayments were starting.
What was I to do in such a situation? I did what any sensible man would do, and decided to go on a luxury cruise. But not any old luxury cruise. A luxury cruise where my flights to and from the start and end ports would be paid for, the food and accommodation would be free, and I’d get paid $550 a week tax-free in exchange for doing a mere 2 hours’ work a night in the ship’s show band. So, starting in September I’m going to be touring the world on ship, using my copious amounts of free time to practise the piano and write blog entries, and spending my time onshore stretching my easy-earned dollars as far as they will go in South America. I haven’t yet stopped teaching all of my students, but I can burn that bridge when I come to it. After all, who needs bridges when you have a boat?