Years ago, I was on a train journey with a broken arm when a disagreeable woman demanded I surrender my seat and berated me loudlya situation that called for a quiet but firm lesson.
Three days earlier, I had taken a nasty tumble down the stairs, leaving my arm fractured. The ache was sharp, and even the strongest remedies did little to dull it. Worse than the pain, though, was the frustration of feeling so helpless.
I resolved to stay with my parents for a timequieter for them, easier for me. Booking a lower berth in the compartment was necessary, as climbing to the upper one would have been impossible with my injury. Once settled, the train lurched forward, and a woman stepped in. She was perhaps fifty, impeccably dressed, with an air of unshakable confidenceand the moment our eyes met, I knew trouble had arrived.
Her expression soured as she glanced at my ticket, then snapped, Young man, I always take the lower bunk. Move aside.
Calmly, I gestured to my sling. Im afraid thats not possibleI chose this seat because I cant manage the climb.
She stared, then raised her voice sharply. What nonsense! You youngsters have no respect. Im older than you, and here you are, keeping the best seat for yourself. Wheres your decency?
By now, a small crowd had gathered in the corridor, and it was clear she was performing for them. Just then, a well-built gentleman in his forties enteredsmartly dressed, with an expensive wristwatch glinting on his arm. It dawned on me then: her outburst was likely less about the seat and more about securing a prime spot beside him.
After I stood my ground, she huffed and perched opposite, edging closer to the man, launching into shameless flirtation. The audacity of it all was staggering.
That was when I decided she needed a lessonnot through shouting, but with something more subtle.
Drawing out my phone, I began recording. Then, evenly, I said, Ive captured everythingyour shouting, your insistence, your disregard for a doctors orders. And heres something curiousyoure a civil servant, arent you? That badge on your bag is from the Department of Education.
Her face drained of colour.
I could send this footage straight to your superiors, I continued. I imagine theyd find your treatment of someone with an injury quite illuminating.
The man beside her smirked and inched away. She sat rigid, as if splashed with icy water.
II didnt mean she stammered, all her earlier bravado vanished.
Next time, I said quietly, perhaps consider kindness before demands.
I pocketed my phone. She spent the rest of the journey in silence, no longer flirting, no longer uttering a word.
