Most people would think it stupid to make any form of contact with one’s fellow travellers, but in the cramped older style trains once fashionable across the world it would be difficult not to make eye contact at the very least. But one would never ever expect to make bodily contact of the type I am about to describe. It was on such a train that I experienced this strange incident that was to have a profound influence on me and to cause me to look at my lifestyle from an entirely different perspective.
It was Christmas Eve 1984 and as usual I was very late in my efforts to get to my parents home in the West of Ireland. I had expected to catch the 3 pm train and be there in the early evening around 7pm. that was when the one and only train from Dublin usually arrived but a major hitch in my planning mainly caused by my overindulgence in the city highlife saw my departure delayed by almost four hours. I was twenty-four years old and living on the wild side determined to enjoy life to its fullest. I was footloose, unattached and playing the field and revelling in the many pleasures and temptations of the flesh and the crazy way-out lifestyle of the big city. Time and timetables did not always seem important to my mixed-up brain. That was the cause of my predicament on this Christmas Eve.
Houston Station was just about to close its gates for the long holiday weekend as I rushed on to Platform 9. I had defiantly missed the scheduled train but I was hoping I might be able to catch a late train to take me even part of the way to my destination in County Mayo. My luck was in; a train was about to depart and the porter shoved my heavy backpack and myself into the last carriage just before the train moved off en-route to the western side of the island.
“You only just made it this time, young fellow,” the elderly porter told me as he stowed my backpack in the overhead rack. “This is the last train west for three days. You’re lucky they put on this extra special to cater for latecomers such as you. It’s company policy to try to get you stragglers home to their loved ones for the festive season. This one is a non-stop express to Galway City and it looks as if you will have the whole compartment all to yourself. Have a safe journey, take care and have a Happy Christmas.”
I wished the old fellow a “Happy Christmas” and tipped him the price of a beer. I was indeed really lucky to get out of Dublin that evening, that special train being the only option, we didn’t have the luxury of an airport in the west and I settled down for the four-hour journey to Galway, from there it was a mere twenty miles to home and I could easily get a cab or cadge a lift. As I was the only occupant in the compartment I could grab a few hours sleep and hopefully arrive in Galway refreshed and in good spirits.
It was a special train, that’s for sure. I hadn’t seen one like it since I was a boy but I was not about to complain about anything that night. I was just keen to get home and to meet up with my family and the many friends of my youth who like me would be returning home for the Christmas holidays. This was one of the older types of carriages where each compartment was separate from the rest and as many as ten or twelve passengers would sit facing each other, sometimes without speaking on a long trip of many hours because they hadn’t been introduced. But that would not be a problem to me this night, as I was alone in that compartment I could lay down full length on the long seat and soon I was sound asleep catching up on many lost hours of rest.
I don’t know how long I slept until I was awoken by the sound of loud snoring and I saw the figure of an elderly man lying full length on the seat opposite. I had not seen him come on board at Westland Row Station and the porter said it was a non-stop train to Galway City, so I reckoned he must have been in another compartment and had decided same as me that a few hours sleep would be exactly what he needed. He was snoring loudly so I didn’t anticipate any communication with him.
I settled down for the second time that night but I found that sleep did not come so easily and through narrowed eyelids I watched my fellow traveller, there was something about him that was causing me a fair degree of concern but I knew not what or why. I had the feeling that I had seen this man before but could not recall where, an unkempt grey beard covered most of his face making it difficult to recognize, but I felt almost sure that I knew him from somewhere in the past. Maybe we had crossed paths in one of the many city hotels, where I was a regular patron but I guessed he was but a fellow traveller like me, going home to someone special for Christmas. I closed my eyes and once more I nodded off.
I was unaware of anything amiss until I was jolted awake for the second time that night by a heavy blow to my chest, I felt as though my ribcage was being crushed in a powerful grip. There was a flash and all the lights the compartment went out, plunging our space into almost complete darkness. Except for the one small globe in the access corridor outside the rest of the carriage lights had shut down. I struggled to sit-up but something very heavy was lying across my chest, pinning me to the seat flat on my back. It was my fellow traveller who was doing his best to choke the life out of me and I could do little to protect myself. He was very strong indeed and I was helpless as a baby, I was completely at his mercy.
His crazy eyes bored into mine, the stench from his alcohol-soaked breath and his unwashed body was unbearable, his untidy grey beard was streaked with spittle as he screamed obscenities at me. As he tried hard to throttle the breath from my body and as I slowly lost consciousness I saw two young people, a male and a female appear in the compartment. I saw the female plunge a hypodermic needle into the arm of the madman and then he slowly released his vice-like grip from around my throat and I was able to grab some life-saving air.
As they dragged him off my inert body I was able to clearly see his face and I knew then where I had seen this man before. It was a face I knew very well, a face I can never forget.
The young male smiled and said “Slow it down man! Heed well this warning. Remember this night… but it never really happened… just slow it down.” He shoved a hypodermic needle into the side of my neck behind my ear.
Then they vanished, gone as if they had never existed.
The porter roused me from my stupor in Galway City just after 11 pm and apart from a painful rib that may well be cracked when my backpack had tumbled down on me from the overhead rack whilst I slept I felt really refreshed as if I had slept for a very long time. I reckoned I had experienced a weird dream or nightmare or was my reckless highlife finally catching up on me. Whatever had occurred on that train it was the catalyst for a dramatic lifestyle change. I never told anyone about my strange experience until now…I just went about making subtle changes to my behaviour. My chest pain cleared up within a few with no lasting effects but to this day there is a small red mark on my neck behind my ear.
Well that was more than twenty years ago and it did indeed have a profound effect on my future lifestyle; I did heed the warning and I did slow down. I had been given a second chance and thankfully I was capable of recognizing the danger signs and doing something about them.
Luck was indeed on my side because I managed to find a job that suited my requirements and my personality. I worked hard and learnt a lot about commercial banking. I was rewarded well for my efforts and was promoted to the position of branch manager after a few short years of hard work. Now I have reached the top of the heap, where I hope to stay for a long time. The crazy lifestyle of the big city was no longer a magnet to me and I settled down in the safe familiar surroundings of the town of my birth. I was back home.
Now every time I look into the mirror I can still see the face of the madman who almost took my life that night. I appreciate my good fortune, my lovely family, my fine home and my position of importance. As I stroke my neatly trimmed grey beard I contemplate and wonder how differently my life might have turned out if I had missed that last special train out of Houston Station on Christmas Eve so long ago.