"Line 3 and 5 closed." Collaps of infrastructure and Suicidal trends

That’s the message roaming the loudspeakers when I was thrown off the train at Majorstua, one stop from my destination, the University. The cause? Too much snow. The people running things here have never conceived of snow as an actual weather condition, no, it’s hypothetical. That’s why they only have hypothetical means of making sure the routes go as they’re supposed to. When fronting tons of snow, hypothetical means don’t go further than a shrug and a pat on the back.

So I got my shit together, put Nietzsche in my backpack and started walking, a completely perverse and unnatural action. But I confronted myself with the task ahead and took to admiring the lovely scenery, that is the two teenage girls walking in front of me.
We were going up this steep hill. There was four minutes left to my class would officially begin. I got my pace up and walked into the howling wind with a rather defying attitude. I thought of Alive and pondered on who of the two girls I’d have to eat first.

I got there ten minutes late.

When the lousy class was over, I ducked out from familiar faces, lit my cigarette and hurried down towards the trains. We’d gotten off kind of early and there was at least a hypothetical possibility of me reaching the first one going East. But as hypothesis go, this time the real world announced itself as uncompromising.
The schedule showed trains coming at 8 and 11 minutes past. It was 9 minutes past. "Still running a little late" I cursed to myself. You see, I take pride in ensuring that society runs the way I want to. My pride had completely vanished by 15 minutes past when the loudspeaker announced "an alternative schedule" for the day. What he was saying was that for people riding lines 3 and 5, which essentially was me, the trains would go to Majorstua but not further.
Cheers, mate!

I was getting awfully hungry, and I started to look around to see which of the other would-be passagers to eat. There was this fat woman in a fur coat, and I imagined that if you pulled off the coat, there would be some tender meat underneath I could sink my teeth in. And I could simply pull on her fur coat to protect myself from the agonizing cold, like Luke and Han Solo did at the Battle of Hoth.

Eventually the message started to sink in.
Despite the fact of us standing here there would be no train.
I leaped, or tumbled, into action and started walking. Again.

It was kind of nice walking through the semi sub-urban community that us frontier men and women had to tangle. At least when I walked, it didn’t feel like I was going to have to amputate both of my legs after all. And I thought of the silly sods still waiting for the train. Stupid and worthless. It warmed my heart.

When I finally got to Majorstua they had come to terms with the fact that people wanted an explanation for why the trip they had paid for wasn’t going to happen. The loudspeaker said that in addition to the snow there had been an incident, he actually used the word event, at the station west of the University. They also call it a personal tragedy. Personal tragedy my ass. It’s a public tragedy! Why can’t suicidal maniacs at least have the decency to just hang themselves? Why do they have to be all dramatic? It’s just dying for chrissakes, it’s not like your stopping the universe and time itself, so please leave those of us who’s not going to die today alone. Yes, yes, we understand that your life was screwed, but you’re not really doing much to deal with it now, are you?

This is collective transportation, okay?
Not singular or for yourself alone. That means we’re in this together, and when you absolutely have to go and kill yourself using collective transportation, you’re bringing down the infrastructure. You’re making sure people don’t get to their job interviews, that the happy fiancé never reaches the church in time, and that the pregnant chick never gets to the hospital – making a mess in some poor Pakistani’s cab. What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned hanging yourself, my boy? Now that’s a way to go! It’s not unoriginal, it’s a classic! And it doesn’t ruin the plans of those of us who are actually trying to make a better life for ourselves. Just do it.

But I finally got my ride homewards, without having to take a taxi. There’s this "guarantee" that if the train is late, you can take a cab and send a receipt to the train company, who will look into your story. I don’t need a year-long process telling me that they are insured against weather and other acts of gods. Besides I can’t really prove that I lost anything of financial value. The only thing I lost was my lunch, adding to my growing appetite of destruction, and I lost my patience and I lost a few pounds running through the snow-covered outback of westside Suburbany. Not bad for a Wednesday. Can’t wait till my next class tomorrow.

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