Having written what follows, I subsequently, I found out the real reason for the evacuation, which was rather sobering. Interesting that the conductor didn’t know what had happened, and that it was left to another passenger to tell both him and I that someone had attempted to get onto the tracks. However, I decided to post what I wrote, because it shows what went through my mind as things progressed.
The effect is instantaneous. One swift move for the notebook, to write a highly necessary rant, and: KERPLIPH! The Tram appears.
Well, moment be damned! (Trammed?) The spiel marches on!
...and that was the introduction I so neatly penned in my lecture book as I sat after a half hour wait, confident in the thought that soon Victoria Square would be Victoria Dot, and that within 34 minutes I would be back to the Palindromic Sand Den.
So why is it that now I find myself becoming slowly infuriated by the seemingly incessant chiming of some distant church bells, marking the apparently significant time of 7:22p.m.? The conductor and some man with a torch circle the vehicle thoughtfully, whilst the now de-passengerated bystanders grumble and wonder what the evacuate-worthy “Incident” could possibly be.
My paranoia bells are saying “bomb”...clearly my self preservation instincts (OH NOES! It’s the chimes again, happily informing us that it is now 7:27p.m.) leave a lot to be desired...I am only standing one metre further away than everyone else, and 57% of that is because I don’t want people to see what I’m writing.
7:28p.m. we are allowed to re-board (and for those of you who are following the soundtrack to this piece, yes, the chimes are still pealing) and now the disgruntled atmosphere is being replaced by the usual awkward apathy.
...do I ask what happened?
Of course, the usually suppressible area of my imagination is tossing in its two cents that, actually yes, the tram did explode, and now we are commuting to the afterlife a’la “Heart and Souls”...I guess too many Robert Downey Junior movies at a young age can do that to you...
However, briefcased individuals keep “vacating this vehicle”, so that theory is fortunately deported back to its celluloid roots (why must I always think of celery whenever the word “celluloid” crosses my path?)
I am still no closer to finding out what happened, as the conductor has withdrawn himself to the far reaching corners of the tram.
My speculations are as follows:
1) The woman who monotonises “the next stop is...” etc. escaped from the special compartment in which she is imprisoned, and ran amuck, hysterically shouting destinations at random, before finally being “contained”.
2) The tram is actually a transformer, and we were evacuated to be flashy-thinged into forgetting...
3) There was something wrong with the cement on the new part of the track at Victoria Guang Chang...plauisible...I guess...
...and that is where I stopped writing on the tram, due to the extreme “getting to the end of the line” nature of things.
