We've Got a Ticket to Ride

a Saturday Story

(This week’s Saturday Story is a continuation from last week’s. Saturday Stories are stories from life. Sometimes they have a moral and sometimes they are just stories. You decide.)

The train station buzzed with activity, its platforms teeming with commuters headed to towns, villages, and cities. Our destination was the last stop: a coastal city where we’d catch a flight to the capital before leaving the country in a few days.

When our train was announced, we navigated the crowd to board our assigned car. The interior was clean but densely packed, the “no smoking” signs blatantly ignored, making the air oppressive. My partner and I chose to stand, leaving seats for women and elderly passengers. At each stop, the car emptied a little more, and after a while, we claimed seats opposite each other.

A young woman sat beside me, while an older man stood nearby, gripping a chrome bar and leaning conspicuously close. Overhead, small monitors played a martial arts movie. The costumes were absurd, the acting laughable, and the stunts so outlandish that even my limited knowledge of martial arts made them seem ridiculous. My partner and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

The young woman next to me broke the ice. “Do you know what they are saying?”

Her question caught me off guard. “You speak excellent English,” I replied. “No, we don’t understand the language. I hope our laughing isn’t offensive—we just found the acting a bit… over the top. My apologies if we’ve been rude.”

She smiled. “No offense at all. These movies are awful in every way.”

She asked for our names, and I shared only our first names. My partner tensed, shooting me a cautious look. His wariness stemmed from experience—his previous partner had been detained, deported, and had their visa revoked. His glance screamed: Stop talking.

Ignoring his silent plea, I continued the conversation.

To be continued next Saturday…