h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

On the subject of train travel, I made the mistake of taking the Marrakech Express on the Sunday before Eid Al Adha. It was a little less than romantic.
At this festival, Moroccans travel rather like Indians and there were three times as many people than the train could carry and twice as much baggage. Moroccans are also not very good at 'queueing' and the train was over an hour late simply because it spends half an hour at each station where the irresistible force of the people pushing to get on is met with the immovable object of the people trying to get off.
I got elbowed and shoved further and further along the platform until I found myself by the door to the 1st class carriages, which were far more civilised, and from where there seemed to be the faint possibility of getting into the 2nd class, from the inside. This was an incredibly stupid assumption.
However, there are (on Moroccan trains) two 'jump seats' (for smokers – I think – something that you can still do in Morocco without being regarded as a pariah) so I sat down on one, upon which an ONCF policeman pushed through the mêlée and officiously ordered me to move to whence I belonged. As this was physically impossible I ignored him and remained where I was whilst he yelled at some Moroccans who had made the same mistake that I had. Their response was somewhat more vociferous than mine and although my grasp of Moroccan Arabic is limited, I think they were questioning both his education and whether his parents were actually married.
The ticket inspector then appeared as he had very few passengers to attend to and what was gong on in the 'lobby' was far more interesting. He endorsed my ticket, without saying anything, so I asked him (in English) if I could upgrade my ticket to First Class. Normally it is perfectly possible to buy your ticket 'on the train', although you pay a small premium for so doing. He said 'yes', with which the policeman, who had hitherto professed to understanding not a single word of English, restrained the ticket inspector and said in perfectly adequate English; “No – they are all reserved,” which they weren't.
The altercation continued, on and off, until we approached to Berrached (an apt place as it is Morocco's equivalent to Bodmin - formerly - and home to the country's largest 'looney-bin').
By this time – having been told twenty or more times that I MUST go to 2nd class – I must have lost my sense of equilibrium, presence of mind or both and said in English and in a voice that would make a regimental sergeant-major appear 'soft-spoken', “Its not possible you idiot.” (which included two expletives that Auntie would not approve of)
Now – if you think that Moroccans don't understand English, you are wrong. The entire carriage erupted in laughter, as well as the sardines packed into the adjoining 2nd class carriage.
Much to my surprise, I did not get arrested but rather, was offered a proper seat in 1st class, free-of-charge! I said “Thank you, but there are older tireder people than me – I'll stay where I am thank you.” And I did.
When I disembarked at Settat, the officious little ONCF policeman apologised!
I should add that this is my first and only 'problem' with ONCF in eleven years and that the fault was entirely mine for being stupid enough to even attempt to travel by train at Eid Al Adha.

a man after my own heart, the more someone gets uppity with me, the more the stubborn mule inside me grows - be pleasant and I'll return the same