He got on at Central. He fiddled with his iPod. He sat quite contentedly through Strathfield station, fiddled some more through Parramatta, was almost asleep through Blacktown, but then started fiddling with his iPod again just as we got near Penrith.
As we pulled to a stop, he looked around, gave a start, uttered the immortal line above. Upon receiving negative answers and amused looks from the entire carriage, he got up and ran out of the carriage in a hurry.
Some days things just don't go according to plan.