While waiting at East Croydon one afternoon on a First Capital Connect 319, a middle-aged chap and his wife boarded. The conversation went thus:
"Excuse me, does this train go to Brighton."
"Um, yes, it does."
"Ah. Well, we'd like to go to Gatwick Airport, not Brighton.
"Uh... we call at Gatwick Airport. It's the next stop."
"That's not good enough."
There was a dissatisfied sigh and he walked off the train, hiks wife trundling along behind like a tanned suitcase. I have no idea why our lovely service wasn't good enough, or if they ever made it to Gatwick Airport ... One of life's little mysteries, I suppose.
He obviously wanted a VEG unit :
