The Flying Scotsman, The Hogwarts’ Express, The Orient Express, The Polar Express, Puffing Billy and The Little Engine That Could are all legends — real and fictional — of railway travel. You can add to that list South Western Railways’ newly refurbished Class 458/4 trains, specifically the 8:53 a.m. from Guildford to London Waterloo. Yes, it’s comfy. Yes, it’s air-conditioned. Yes, it was on-time and an express when Geoff and I, and a few hundred other commuters, were all onboard. But, it was the conductor, not the equipment, who put that train in the record books.
About ten minutes before our train chugged into Waterloo Station, the conductor, in a British-Jamaican accent, made the standard announcements — mind the gap, don’t forget to take your possessions and rubbish with you. Then, across the PA system came this:
“Good morning. Please carry this with you today; happiness is the only thing that multiplies when you share it.” A few other life lessons came next. “Good, better, best, never let it rest until good becomes better and better becomes your best.” Positive reinforcements after that, “You are amazing. Look at you.” Everyone on the train smiled a little self-consciously and turned to people sitting near them, wondering if they were comfortable with such praise.
“Today, you have a lot to be happy about. If you forget that, remember this,” the conductor intoned. “You woke up this morning. Someone else didn’t. Enjoy every minute of your day.” A few people took out tissues. The PA went quiet. Commuters started talking to each other. Geoff and I swapped solar eclipse conspiracy theory stories with two new train friends. (Did you know, that during the eclipse, they — the ubiquitous, but unidentified they — swapped the old sun with a new and more ominous sun? Amazing.)
Then our conductor, our sage, was back, “Love people, not things. Use things, but never people.” Another pause. “And here are your songs for the day, ‘Eye Of The Tiger,’ and because there’s still one day until Friday, ‘I Will Survive.’” The train came to a halt. “Welcome to London, Waterloo. Thank you for riding with us, and have a happy day.”
All but one person carried their depleted coffee cups off the train. The rest of us glared at that one, but were afraid to touch her cup. Post-COVID, we were still uncertain about communing with a stranger’s spit. Geoff and I got off the train, saw the conductor standing on the platform a few cars back. We ran toward him, along with a few other people. We thanked him. We told him he was amazing and made our days. He answered, “Thank you, but I do it all for you. You are all amazing.”
