It’s late morning, Saturday around 11:34am, at Frankston station.
The sun is in a high-set, overhang what is considered in forecast to be a clear day in the sky above.
Today is Sunday, 22nd March 2015. This a day to remember Melbourne’s, ‘Iron Man’ series, thus raging along Frankston beaches, through to coastline urban suburbs.
The CBD, of the City and Urban suburb streets were very quiet, with residents and visitors either hub in sand or scrambled along the course way streets, spectators to champions in play.
The familiar passengers of the 11:34am Frankston departure, destined for Melbourne, are already tapped-on and boarded; the silver and blue colour coded Metro train.
Just like clockwork, all indications have been made, doors closing, a thump in movement to accelerate speed, see the train off and on its way.
On board, the onlookers seated, in their allocated by choice cubes, are a diverse bunch of local civilians, scattered with the occasional holiday maker.
To the left, parallel, yet divided in path, sits a male and female couple, late 40’s, average in look, yet clothed in ones Sunday best, on their way to the Airport, via the City Circuit.
One would surmise this with baggage in toe-tag-tie, lumbered on seats vacant, with carry-on plastics, placed with care, on the floor to foot.
The carriage is situated about half length of the total train, in carriages and wheeled parallel to steel, alloy tracking.
This carriage like many others are designed for urban people transport, a well buffered, air-conditioned and electrified with propulsion systems, cocooned in steel and prefabricated, carbon fibre framing.
The train thrust pulsed, makes its way station by station – Kananook Station (Seaford), Seaford Station (Seaford), Carrum Station (Carrum), Bonbeach Station (Bonbeach), Chelsea Station (Chelsea), Edithvale Station (Edithvale), and Aspendale Station (Aspendale).
This journey in motion, has already paved in passing, road crossings, gully ways, river and or road bridges, thus something regular passengers, take very little interest in observing.
Secure in a bubble of chosen transport, the passengers tinker, talk and or absorb in reading, time conscious though, to each station, passing-by.
There is a sudden deceleration of braking that has come about, perching the train and its carriages, Mordialloc Bridge high, over water.
Powers to the overhead speakers are on, the train driver, makes an announcement.
His words calm and deliberate makes statement to an obstruction underfoot, will delay further progression of transit, a delay estimated in minutes, to be 30 or 45.
The train driver had indicated furthermore, the train has made contact with a person, on or near, this now, perched bridge.
This unfortunate soul, young or old, a john doe, just now has been taken in one foul swoop, no doughty broken boned and mangled, freshly cut flesh, half hung in segmented, wooden and or steel cavities, the bridge below.
One would assume this victim, quick to demise, a pain free death, was a shredder of tats, gloss corroded in ripe painted red, fumbling under carriage’n’wheel, thus a demise, any one weighted urban train, has on offer.
The conductors voice was now bothersome, with emotion to peril of trauma, would indicate confirmation, in part to this sight, a deepen loss of life, in tragedy.
The passengers on-board tweaked with insecurities, to how, and or what, actually has happened.
Time moves forward, speculations have raised passengers with mobile in hand, thus giving word to reason for this, unscheduled stop, this now an inconvenience for creating delay.
Below the bridge, yet not out of sight, gathers onlookers afloat, inquisitive by nature, thus are point’n’chatter in focused view, to what scene is obvious and visually available.
The 40 plus year old female, holiday maker, seated far right to window, observes this goings on, and now partakes in words, her own.
Descriptively and motherly by heart, mentions an obvious flaw to the parents afloat, “There are two kids in that boat with parents, in bow, looking on”, she whimpers in statement, whilst in gaze and stare.
Passengers back and forth, front and back, are stewing individual conversations to scenario, whilst in wait of further proceedings.
One passenger stated in comment, “I saw a path crossing, just prior to the bridge” another would reply, “They can be very dangerous, train track cross roads and walkways, some even are without, gates”.
Further conversations are sparked, topics and statements said, “Old people would not even hear, modern trains coming these days, without looking both ways, as they are so quiet”, another said, “There did not look to be any gates, to path”.
The train driver, via the powered on speakers, once again indicated further delay, though happened to leave the speakers active overhead, whilst in conversation, to his superiors.
One would know from, what was said, the train came around bend, brushed without seeing, an individual, on or at the bridge, now perched.
Trains are ‘Weapons of mass destruction’, vehicles wrapped with mass weight, steel, and power.
A Trojan horse, that can and will do damage, having the common ability to collect one’n’passing, via the seduction in sway of turbulence and velocity, drawing one in and under carriage.
Today passengers of the 11:34am, Frankston to Melbourne departure, saw this individual’s last, RIP.
A toll continuously added, annually to an average count of 22 or more, non-suicide fatalities, within Australia.
Police officers, now in view, were scoping the scene from the residing parallel tracks, thus accompanied at hand, by Ambulance medics.
The 11:34am Frankston train, was now 1 hour or more, sitting in perch, thus on the Mordialloc bridge.
A barrage of Ambulance and police officers, now had boarded the Metro train, in sort to aid medical attention, thus for any passengers in need.
Metro officers in following from behind, carriage by carriage, also were giving informative information, to protocols needed to be kept, the red tape, apologetic in all, to reported time delays of, 30 to 45 minutes.
Passengers were mustering it up, being inconvenienced in wait.
A male passenger, sitting back pathway down, speaks up with concern, whilst pointing forward carriage, to a lady and gentleman beside, the couple in their late 30’s or 40’s and said, “The couple over there, are on their way to catch a flight”.
The Ambulance officer in acknowledgement, wondered back over to the couple, “Where are you headed?”, he asked the lady in question.
She replied, “Gold Coast, but our flight is not until 6 o’clock”, referencing pm.
The male gentleman, thus accompanying the lady, muttered, “I was first going to take her to Chapel ST, this for a bite to eat, prior to catching the City to Airport, Skybus”.
The medical officer said, “We will see if we can get you off earlier, then the others, so that you don’t miss your flight”.
The lady in question, starting to fluster minor inpatient’s, had replied, “Thank you, its an inconvenience, the wait, but we must all take it with stride, either way”.
Though humble the medic maybe, in kindness of thought, to aiding the idea, however the precarious positioning of the train and carriage’s, would not allow de-training of any passengers, thus far back.
The medic’s notion, was flawed to others in carriage and wait, developing some new ideas and strategy of their own, exit.
The discovery of other passengers in mind, would no doubt show loss of their own, such as opportunities, work and or commitment, wasted with instances of inconveniences, presented with time delays.
10 to 15 minutes, was the call, an agreeable time frame between medic and train authorities.
Time passed, passengers may have noticed, that the air con was either not in operational or that being perched above summer gleamed water, had given allowance, to additional heat.
Over time the carriage was becoming thin and dry, closure of vents, windows and exit doors sealed, prevented a fresh cycle of air flow.
An OH&S protocol in idea, I might add, was observed by Ambulance and Metro officers, boxed in-hand with bottled water, for all who cared to take up the offer, in hand-outs.
A final call was spoken out loud, one officer said, “10 minutes, I am advised, the train is getting a New Driver, to take us further down the track, so that you may all, de-train safely”.
To mention here, it is general policy and business practise, that a driver and co-worker, if any, are to finish-up for the day, where extreme circumstances see fit, such as, loss of life.
Five minutes had passed a sudden power on, with motion now underway.
A new driver had obviously arrived and taken charge, focused in mind, to deliver the train load of passengers, now sitting in wait for a possible 2 hours, safely to Mordialloc Station.
Five hundred metres down the track, was the total distance from isolated isolation, the bridge, back to civilisation and safety of, Mordialloc Station.
Steadily, powered with streamline effort, the train breaks away, from its perched bridge position, overhanging, the Mordialloc river.
The train regained gravel’n’ore, pitching up its efforts, so to arrive within minutes, the journey to its destination, Mordialloc Station, thus the final call.
The passengers of the 11:34am, Frankston to Melbourne, de-trained on platform 1, at around 13:50pm, now massing in numbers, on arrival.
Some of the front end passengers, had de-trained earlier, where firm footing was found, this a given allowance to safely exit.
It would be a short, but timely wait, as the 11:34am train reversed, now empty of its passengers, and ready for inspection.
In duel affair of actions, an equal companion, yet another blue and silver colour trimmed train, had now moved in.
Its replacement; ready for the continued journey of station stepping stones, forthwith to Flinders ST, Melbourne.
This journey was already time wasted, however for some passengers, who opted for an early exit, a return trip home, back to Frankston, or the stations in between.
Tapping-off at 13:50pm, in seeking out the Station master, one asked, “How do I get back to Frankston?”
The Station master, tall, lanky and weathered, yet summer dressed in grey shorts and white shirted uniform, replied, “You’ll have to catch the bus, this from the other platform side”, gesturing locality.
The platform was built-up with clusters of diverse culture, plain people in wait, the overall general look.
Passing through the crowd, there was one door ajar, this was revealing the Station masters comm’s room, high-set, yet another uniformed alike Metro officer, who was timekeeping his way through, current affairs.
After seeking out a ramp, downward, insight was a gloomy, un-inviting, entrance of a tunnel, thus stemming under path of the tracks, consistently tagged in amateur art, and out to the other side, adventure was made.
Roaming in vision, an orange Ventura Bus (PT Rail), came into view, left side to the platform.
Strolling over, one could see other co-travellers, keen to board, given the go ahead, by the fluoro orange vested, Metro officer, co-ordinating efforts.
Boarding, prior of, one would ask for confirmation, to the question, “Is this bus going to Frankston?”, the officer replied, “Yes, it does!”.
In a repeat affair, uncertain to this abnormality, one asks the bus driver for reassurance, again, “Is this bus going to Frankston?”
The bus driver general, slim average build, common, yet a little more aging in look, than the Metro officer, replies, “Yes!”.
Boarding the bus, gazers sat in wait, one found a seat mid four, vacant at the time.
For not to long, many other travellers in likeness of destination, arrived outside, keen for seating, had now boarded.
The bus limited in capacity, had soon became congested with even standing room only was herded with people, to its fullest.
The once vacant seat in the mid four, were now taken up by three females, young 20’s to 30’s, overall they were wearing clothing of, physical trend (gym wear).
The three females traveling varied in complexions, two without makeup and one with, the youngest of the three.
The female mannerisms varied slightly from one personality to the other, whilst conversed in conversation, on what language was easier to learn, and who at school, had learnt a language in the selection of – French, Japanese and Spanish.
One of the females sitting, left face, said, “French was the easiest choice to learn, as it made use of English letters, with Japanese being hard for similar reasoning”, whilst indicating in conversation, hand gestures, the writing format of Japanese.
Standing room consisted of many young people, some with sports uniform shirts and short dresses alike, though plain, mix’n’match was the general look, the overall trend theme of local travellers.
Wheels, powered in motion, saw the travellers off to their next destinations, stopping at Aspendale Station (Aspendale), Edithvale Station (Edithvale), Chelsea Station (Chelsea), Bonbeach Station (Bonbeach) and Carrum Station (Carrum).
Reflecting the affairs outside whist in transit, spectating, residence aligned the coned streets, volunteers at drink replenishment stands and road monitors, were situated along the course, lane ways.
The bannered in number, contestants of Iron Man, Melbourne, were seen, casually cycling to speed of each other, a track coursed out here and there, in similar paths to that of ones, own destination.
The bus driver indicated in spoken word, he said “last stop, Carrum Station, a train will be conveying passengers, the rest of the way”.
One is a little confused by this alteration, in travel affairs, one was sure he had asked, if the bus would be going to Frankston.
On exit, one asked yet another Metro co-ordinating officer, lurking around the Bus interchange, fluoro vested and uniform alike, “How do I get to Frankston?”, he replied, “Platform 1”.
The overhead speakers located on the station platform, spoken out loud, said, “Train to Frankston, will be departing from platform 1”, thus reconfirming directions, given.
It was about 14:23pm, tapping-off, on arrival to Carrum station, platform 1.
The digital readout, overhead, stated the next train to Frankston, would be at 14:33pm.
Observing ones surroundings, one could see, PT Rail buses, coming and going, back and forth, between stations one has just return travelled.
The station, was weathered a rustic look of older buildings, this was very common, to the surroundings of, Melbourne’s Metro area.
Travellers entering from the opposite side, platform 2, scurried forthwith to, platform 1, as each announcement was made to that of the departure change, in direction of travel, by the Station master, via speakers overhead.
14:32pm saw the arrival of the Metro train to Frankston, passengers now boarding, eagerly to seat.
The time 14:33pm, power doors closed and the train set off in motion, headed streamline, station by station, Seaford Station (Seaford), Kananook Station (Seaford) and finally, Frankston Station (Frankston).
After vacating the train, thus through doors nob designed, to open with a push, left-hand. Passengers headed for exit.
The exits, yellow coded, shutter style gates, connected to blue columns, equip with built-in, Myki touch pads, situated on top, tap’n’go exiting.
On touch, it turns out, Myki cards, thus in-part of the last duration of travel from Carrum Station, had been disabled.
A short brown hair, stumpy size lady, dressed in a Metro uniform, had indicated verbally in statement, “Some cards may not be working, due to disruptions earlier today, please use the right main exit, if you are having issues exiting”.
Yes, sure enough ones card was not working, tap, tap, tapping away.
Thereafter exiting the open gate at 14:44pm and checking charges of travel, two charges were found, AU$3.76 and AU$2.24.
As you can imagine, one’s day had already run a loss, no achievement was made, just merely enduring, a turnaround trip of time wasted.
Next stop, the Station masters office, obviously a refund is in order, for one’s time spent.
Walking into the semi-enclosed section of the building, pending an upgrade, one would find a window.
Peering through, one could see one or two Metro officers, thus doing their daily business in paperwork, the general office norm.
A little sign read on a silver plaque, “Press for Assistance”, this above a bell press button and speaker holes, patterned below, and located near the bottom-right of the open, serving window.
On pressing, a dark skinned medium build man, dressed in Metro officer business attire, approached the window.
This was a man, who took pride, not only in his work and also, in his professional appearance.
This gentleman spoke, “May I help you?”, ones reply to his question, said, “How do I get a refund, this for my wasted travel, today?”.
The Station master, produced a purple brochure, tipped blue on the top-right edge, thus encased with the word Metro and the capital letter M, icon above, an Asian female lady, thus with shopping bags in-hand, photographed below.
A lowercase quote within the top quarter of the brochure, stated, “for everyone, everyday”.
The brochure was titled, “Customer Compensation Code”.
The Station master, replied to the question, with statement, “Complete the back section called, ‘Customer Compensation Claim Form’, and mail it to the address below”, pointing to the printed, PO Box address within.
The PO Box address stated – Customer Compensation, Metro, Reply Paid, GPO Box 1880, Melbourne VIC 8060.
One would have thought, the Station master, might have just credited the Myki, for what charges are already set, on the day.
No, wishful thinking that would seem to efficient in service.
Now, one must not only fill out this form, due to unforeseen circumstances, but also locate and or purchase a plain envelope to mail-in, or perhaps.
One thought of mind, would just register a claim online, possibly instead. However, Metro do not reimburse, unless sued for Driver Negligence.
True Story.
Brett Hutton
Protonumus 