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6 days ago
11
Some time in the early years of the last decade, a friend and I travelled by train from London to Barcelona, where we would be covering a football match for work. We had a very nice day, playing Scrabble and drinking train wine as we sped south. The only problem was that a kid near us, not 10 years old, was watching a cartoon or playing a game on an iPad without the benefit of headphones. The sound wasn’t so much loud as persistent. Slowly but surely it drilled its way into our skulls and started to eat into our souls. I shot the family a couple of glances but got a look back which managed to communicate two things. Firstly that they were sorry. Secondly that if they took the iPad off the kid, we’d all be sorry. So, on he went. And an otherwise perfectly pleasurable journey started to drag.
Then I had an idea. I got my headphones out of my bag, caught the mother’s eye, and handed them over. After a bit of faff they were connected to the iPad, the wretched noise ceased and I got a round of applause from men, women and children of many nations. I relate this story even though I never think it’s a good look to be the hero of your own anecdotes. My excuse is that the incident reminds me of how rare such behaviour was back then. Yes, people were known to yak away too loudly on their phones, but whoever they were talking at remained a stranger to us. And if anyone was watching or listening to something, they’d be using headphones. True, a bit of tinny noise would occasionally leak out, which was annoying, but that was about as bad as things got.
What happened? What changed? Why do so many people on public transport or in public places now have the sound on their phones coming through the speakers instead of headphones? Do they think it’s acceptable or do they know it’s unacceptable and do it anyway? Is that the point? Last week I boarded a London bus, the No 70 in Ladbroke Grove. It was an afternoon as gentle and warm as you’re ever going to get in west London. But the noise was quite incredible, all of it generated by just one young woman with some very angry sounding music fighting its way out of her phone. We had a dozen or so fellow travellers, all of whom, like me, said nothing. This young woman stared straight ahead. We all looked down at our phones or the floor. I thought about trying my French train trick and offering her my headphones but concluded that neither my headphones nor I would survive this. It was so loud. If any of us had dared to say anything we would have had to shout to make ourselves heard, before – I sense – having to run for our lives.
It got worse. Some bloke rang her and we all listened to a conversation, just as loud, about, as far as I could work out, some smelly clothes getting washed. This went on for so long that I found myself yearning for the return of the dreadful music.
I was fascinated more than angered by this absurd performance. What’s it all about? Try as I might to find a charitable explanation, the only one I could come up with is that it was a giant two-fingered gesture to the whole world, wordlessly posing the question: “I know this is out of order, but what are you going to do to stop me?”
I spent a couple of stops trying to work out how, in an utterly non-confrontational way, I could ask her what she was up to. But before I came up with anything she alighted. And for the time being I remain none the wiser. If you have an explanation of any kind, please do share it with me.
Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist
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