Reflections on a train journey.
On my train to work I pass a mosque. Muslims are entitled to pray, but I am curious as to where the money came from. It's a nothing suburb, but there it is in all its' glory: a reasonably impressive mosque, right beside the rail line.
The announcer was from the sub-continent, India or Pakistan at a guess. His English was not-great. An announcer at a train station in Australia, whose job involves speaking to the public, had a heavy accent, and average English. Surely a native Australian could do a better job.
Next, the unisex toilets. Pretty much all train stations have them. Nobody, outside the tiny minority, ever asked for unisex toilets. Indeed, I suspect most people find them kind of weird and gross. But here we are. Top Down Says Unisex, and the rest of us comply.
An ad for Hustler Ho, or whatever that dumb movie is called, is showing at the train station. Not Joker, Hustler Ho. Sometimes, the police show up with dogs. It's not clear as to the purpose. Is it bomb threats, or drugs? Or is it just bullshit psychological games? A little of all three, Bob.
Signs at a train station, but a different kind of sign. None of this ends well.