A tinny voice over the speakers,
“Just to confirm, this is NOT the Dundee train.
The Dundee train is the one in front.”
An older man in a high-vis jacket,
“Excuse me, miss, but the Dundee train is the one in front.”
Me, a surly girl with a Pikachu t-shirt, and a 50 tonne laptop,
“I’m not going to Dundee.”
A middle-aged WASP. I imagine she’s from Pennsylvania. I know she’s on the wrong train before she opens her mouth. There are no tourist destinations where this train is going.
“Excuse me, does this train go to Leuchars?”
I see her eying my red hair and try not to sigh,
“No, that’s the Dundee train. The one in front.”
“There is no train in front of this one.”
“Well then, I guess you missed it.”