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I got my book out, trying to get through a few pages before I got off. I knew it would be hard because the girl next to me was very determined to be a disruptive, annoying, irritating little brat. The snowsuit, hat, earmuffs and boots she was wearing made her look like the daughter of the Michelin Man. Maybe her brattiness was brought on by the discomfort of her get up. 

She was noisy, attempted to hit her mother a few times, wriggled in her seat so much I was a few seconds away from introducing her to the back of my hand, she stood on her seat, grinding her snow boot mess deep into it (I pity the fool who sat there next). But then she found the creme de la creme of annoyance. She hit a panel by the window and it made a loud bang. Her brother, sitting a few seats away, laughed. And that’s all a kid needs. If someone laughs at it, they will keep going. She hit that panel three more times before her mother calmly grabbed her hand and said;

‘Look at me and do that again and see wha’ ‘appen to you.’

God, I love Jamaican parents. 

The little girl piped down a little bit, but as with every child, she wanted to push it a little more to see how far this could go. She raised her hand one last time to bring it down on the panel. The mother just looked at her and said;

‘Do it. I dare you to do it. Just wait till we get home.’

The little girl retracted her hand. 

‘I’m not going home!’ she said. You got the right idea kid, ’cause she ain’t playing. She will whoop you and I was gonna ask permission to be second in line to whoop you myself. 

Something tells me that kid might be behaving herself next time she’s on a train.